Inquisitor's Mask
by Flamewing80
Summary: The Inquisition has disbanded. Mahvir, the former Inquisitor, leaves his friends behind and sets out to stop Solas. Little do his old companions know, the elf they followed holds a secret just as dark and ancient as the one Solas did. The world titters on the edge of war and destruction. One fights for the past and the other for the future.
1. Final Farewell

**Disclaimer:** Dragon Age is owned by Bioware and EA games.

 **Warning:** There are spoilers from _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ and the dlc _Trespasser_ in this book, some pretty big ones. If you don't want to see them, then don't read this book.

 **Note to readers:** So, I wasn't going to post this until after I finished _Final Hour_ and the book following it, _Forgotten Embers_ since my Inquisitor is in both. However, I have been doing a lot of research on the lore for my youtube videos and need to go back through _Final Hour_ again because otherwise it will bug me. Until I figure out how to write it, here my is my after Trespasser story. Also, there are going to be flashbacks to just before the conclave and after as the story progresses. I don't want to retell Inquisition but there are some moments I would like to add so people understand Mahvir's thoughts and what happened a little better.

Also, no paring. My Inquisitor didn't romance anyone. It will become clear to as why as the story progresses. While my Inquisitor didn't pair with anyone, I like DoriBull and Dagna and Sera together too much to not have them as couples. I know it's impossible to get this in game without romancing someone but it is still fun to imagine they would end up together no matter what.

I hope you enjoy this story. And if you do, please leave a review.

Thank you,  
Flame

* * *

A cold breeze flew up from the mountain to the balcony. The hallow sleeve flapped against Mahvir's side, his gaze locked on the distant scar marking where the breach had once swirled through the clouds.

The threat which had brought all of them together was two years defeated. The Inquisition was no longer needed. Today marked the final day any of them would spend in Skyhold.

"Is something on your mind?" the elegant Nevarran accent sounded behind Mahvir.

"Afternoon, Cassandra." Mahvir turned to her. "It's going to be harder to find Solas with all of us splitting up," he mused. "That was all I was thinking about."

"Well, we'll figure it out." Cassandra stepped to stand beside him. Her gaze also locked on the scar in the sky. "We always do."

The wisp of flickering green could barely be seen through the layers of clouds.

"Did Varric give you a copy of his latest book?" Cassandra asked after a long silence between them.

Mahvir chuckled. "I believe he wanted you to get it and read the book first."

"But it is about us," Cassandra stated. "I thought he would have made certain to give you copy as well."

"I've only read a few of his books," Mahvir pointed out. "You're more a fan of his work than I, Cassandra."

Cassandra flushed a little and cleared her throat.

"There you are, my dear."

"Enchanter Vivienne." Cassandra turned to the Enchanter. The two looked at each other.

"It is a shame you two hide up here while a lovely soiree progresses below."

Cassandra snorted.

Mahvir chuckled. "It's hardly a soiree, Vivienne, more a farewell for old friends."

"True, especially with the way Sera is eating," Cassandra agreed with slight disgust.

Mahvir cross his near empty chambers to the desk there. He pulled out a bottle of wine from one of the drawers then took out three glasses. He held up the wine.

"I hope that is the best from Antiva, darling." Vivienne seated herself on the couch, the movement as elegant as ever.

"I wouldn't dream of keeping any other." Mahvir bowed his head to her. He poured the dark red wine into a glass for Vivienne. "Cassandra?" He lifted the bottle.

The seeker eyed the bottle. "Isn't there wine in the main hall."

"My dear seeker, how can you compare such a delicacy to what Iron Bull brought?"

"Perhaps it is a difference in taste," Mahvir teased Cassandra and Vivienne.

Vivienne looked at him, both her eyebrows raised. "My dear Inquisitor, I have seen you drink what Iron Bull thinks is good. You only pretended to like it."

Mahvir coughed and picked up her glass. "Yes, well, after the first taste I believe my taste buds were numb to it."

"A bad brew tends to do that," stated the enchantress as she accepted her glass from Mavhir. "Thank you, darling." She took a sip of the glass and closed her eyes as if to savior it. "I can always count on you to find the best Antivan wines."

A soft laugh came from Mahvir. "Though I doubt Josephine was too pleased when I used some of the few funds we had left to buy this."

"Ah, she will after she has a taste of it." Vivienne lowered her glass. Her gaze now intent on Mahvir. "What are your plans now?"

"We are going to look for people Solas doesn't know," Cassandra stated.

"That is far from what I meant." Vivienne gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "I doubt the Inquisitor will be accompanying you to rebuild the seekers or me for rebuilding the circle."

Mahvir settled himself behind his desk. He poured his own glass of wine. "I plan on traveling then returning to my clan for a bit. There are a few within the clan I've missed over the past few years." He let out a long breath. "Though, I doubt I will remain long."

"It would be wise to take a few still loyal to you with you, my dear."

Mahvir chuckled. "I'm no longer the Inquisitor, Madam Vivienne."

"None the less, the dangers still remain. You can't afford to be lax, my dear."

The door closed below. "My, what's this, I come looking for the Inquisitor and find a small party happening here without me." Dorian appeared.

"Sorry, Dorian, I should have considered how much we would all miss your presences," Mahvir teased. He poured the new magister a glass.

"I know, how can you stand not having me around, Inquisitor?"

"We managed somehow," Cassandra stated in dry tones.

"Dorian, dear, now you're a real magister, I hope you don't—"

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence." Dorian crossed the room and took a glass of wine.

"My, you don't even know what I was going to say." Vivienne hid her smile behind her hand.

Dorian gave Vivienne an even look then whispered to Mahvir, "Most likely some taunt about my homeland."

"Most likely," Mahvir agreed then cleared his throat.

"My dear Inquisitor, I do hope you're not falling under his sway."

Cassandra sighed.

Mahvir smiled and took a sip of his wine instead of replying. In the end, he would miss every one of his companions, advisors, and the people who had aided in the Inquisition. Yet, he had known this day would come. It was best to savior the company of his closest friends before leaving. For, he would never again see them as he was now. Their next meeting, they might not even be able to recognize him as the former Inquisitor, let alone as their friend.

"All this merry gathering is missing is Bull and the others," Dorian stated as he settled himself in a chair beside Mahvir's desk.

"I take it he and Sera are in a drinking contest?" Mahvir asked.

"Yes, with that dribble they call good."

"You couldn't stop drinking it, if I recall," Vivienne stated.

"The taste was so strange I couldn't stop myself from wondering if the next drink would be just as bad as the first."

"Well, you had best not degrade this fine wine." Vivienne took another sip of her wine.

"I know good wine," Dorian retorted with elegance.

Mahvir leaned back in his seat, enjoying the sharp banter between the two mages.

Cassandra let out a sharp sigh. "I believe I will return to the party." She strode towards the steps. "Inquisitor, when your ready you should join the others." Her gaze traveled over the two mages.

"Thank you, Cassandra."

The seeker nodded once more and set off down the steps.

"My, did we just scare the seeker away."

"More like you did," Vivienne stated.

Mahvir chuckled.

" _When are we leaving this dreadful place_?" A voice whispered through Mahvir's mind annoyed.

" _Soon, Deceit_."

" _Good, I want my own body back and no more ache without a wing… hand, arm?_ " A soft snap sounded through him. " _Besides I hate taking on all your pain so you can play the role of a normal elf_." She was a demon of deceit so it was unclear if she meant what she said or not.

"You had best remember your promise to come visit me in Tevinter," Dorian pulled Mahvir from his internal conversation.

"What could he possibly want with a land of sharks," Vivienne interjected. "The new circle will be far more civilized."

Mahvir smiled. "I promise, I will visit the both of you."

"Yes, it had best be me first," Dorian stated. "I can't imagine you depriving yourself of my presence for long."

"How ever will he manage?" Vivienne teased.

Mahvir finished his glass. "We should return to the party." He lowered the empty glass to the desk before he recorked the bottle.

"A shame we must leave such a fine drink."

"Do you honestly want Sera to drink it all, Enchanter?" Dorian asked.

"It is simply a shame." She stirred the rest of her drink by moving the glass before she finished the last of it.

Mahvir replaced the bottle in the desk before he stood and followed the two down the tower back to the main hall where the party was in full swing.

By the time he reached the hall, Sera was passed out on the floor and Iron Bull was roaring with laughter.

"You found him, _Kadan_ , about time." He wiped his arm across his face. "Come one, Inquisitor there will be nothing left you don't get to feasting."

Mahvir eyed the food. "I'm fine, Bull, I ate before going upstairs."

Iron Bull snorted. "I've seen what you eat, Inquisitor." He lifted a leg and bit into it.

"I see you won the drinking competition with Sera." Mahvir crossed over to their table, careful of the friend passed out there.

Blackwall smiled. "Come now, Inquisitor, did you think Bull would lose."

"Never doubted." Mahvir settled himself into a free seat at the table with the two warriors and passed out rouge. Varric was seated at the other end of the table deep in conversation with Dagna and Harret. From bits of the conversation it sounded like they were discussing Dagna's and Harret's shop in Denerim.

"Hey, Inquisitor," Dagna looked over at Mahvir. "You need to stop by now that the Inquisition has been disbanded. I might have a little something for you if it's in a month or so." She grinned, eyes sparkling with excitement and her normal enthusiastic energy.

"Thank you, Dagna." Mahvir returned her smile. "I look forward to seeing your shop for the first time."

" _Yeah, like you're ever going to see it_ ," Deceit muttered in his mind.

Dagna beamed.

"It will be nice to see you every now again," Harret added.

"And don't forget you now have an estate in Kirkwall," Varric added.

"How can I?" Mahvir teased. "You point it out every chance you get." Mahvir looked to Blackwall. "I would go to Anderfels, but somehow I doubt the Grey Wardens would be so welcoming."

Blackwall grinned. "They'd be for you, Inquisitor. But where are you going to find the time to visit all of us?"

Mahvir laughed. "Now there's the trick."

"We should have a reunion every few years to catch up," Bull stated. He pulled Dorian towards him. "It would force you out of the Imperium, _Kadan_."

Dorian smiled. "One can hope."

The night passed with all of them talking one last time. It seemed all too short for Mahvir. He was soon mounting the steps towards his chambers for the very last time.

Mahvir got up to the room and moved to the desk. He pulled a tattered bag from one of the drawers. Mahvir touched the bag. It appeared flat; yet, could carry anything without ever gaining bulk.

Mahvir placed his armor into the bag. It didn't have any effect on the bag and the armor vanished within. He placed one of his daggers on his waist before slinging the bag over his shoulder. He had to leave tonight.

The light of the moons glittered off the crystal Dorian had given him. It rested on the desk. For a moment Mahvir just looked at the crystal.

" _Leave it,_ " Deceit snapped in his mind.

Mahvir ignored her and picked up the crystal. He wanted to keep one promise to them even if he could never keep the others he had made to visit them.

Deceit let out a clicking hiss. " _Fine, let's not get out of here_."

" _I get. You're tired of sharing my body._ " Mahvir moved to the balcony he looked out over the mountains.

The lights below shimmered against the growing night. It was time to leave then, before his people fell future to Solas's plan. In order to counter Fen'Harel, Mahvir couldn't remain as the Inquisitor or the person those he cared about here knew on sight. It was time to leave.

A small breath escaped him. Mahvir turned from the balcony. There was no leaving a note, no explaining why he had left in the middle of the night; no nothing. The only one he could speak with again was Dorian.

Lies and deceit, that was all the past few years had been. A grand manipulation.

Mahvir started down the steps. The cool night wrapped around him as he exited the keep. None of the guards noticed him as he slipped through the shadows, across the bridge, and out onto the mountainside.

Mahvir paused only once the gate closed behind him. He turned to look one last time at Skyhold. "Farewell, my friends, and forgive me," he whispered. Then, he turned and walked into the deepening night.


	2. Missing

**Reviews are much loved**

* * *

Cassandra looked out over the yard, her mind locked on the drills she had seen there though, the space had also been devoted to healing. The morning was quiet. Too quiet. It felt as if something was missing without the sound of metal on wood or against metal. The old drills Cullen used to run in the courtyard.

Cassandra closed her eyes a little. The Inquisitor was an extremely kind hearted man. A very peculiar elf as well. While he was Dalish, he respected the Chantry and the Maker far more than Cassandra had ever expected any Dalish to. He knew more about human culture and very random obscure facts she had never expected him to know.

She shook her head to dislodge these thoughts. Her gaze moved to the early morning sun before movement caught her eye. Varric was crossing the lower courtyard with his advisor. From the sounds of it, the two were arguing. Varric dropped his bag near the gate.

Cassandra moved down the rest of the steps. Her own pack hidden under her shield.

"I'm not leaving until the Inquisitor is here. We're heading to Kirkwall together," the dwarf snapped. He seemed very disgruntled at his advisor.

Cassandra gave a soft snort at this. Though, she did agree with him. She had no intensions of heading out until she spoke one last time with Mahvir as well. There was no telling when she would next be able to speak with the man face to face, especially over matters relating to Solas.

Dorian moved down join them. He wasn't carrying any of his bags, rather his servant from the Imperium was. "Has anyone seen our dear Inquisitor?" the magister asked.

"Na, I've not seen boss since last night, _kadan_ ," Iron Bull was only a step behind Dorian.

Dorian stroked his mustache. "Odd, normally he's the first awake out of all of us. I remember that time he scared Solas half to death by being in the library before dawn and dropped a book right next to where Solas slept." Dorian chuckled at this.

"Scared you as well," Cassandra reminded the mage.

"Ah, yes, I had believed I was alone in the library that morning."

Though, Cassandra admitted it was extremely odd Mahvir hadn't been in the courtyard first this morning. The man did tend to be up before dawn. He tended to either watch the sun rise over the mountains from the ramparts or watch the keep as it woke.

"I'm going to see if he's speaking with Vivienne." Cassandra started back up the steps to where Vivienne would be packing the last of her belongings.

Among the others of the inner group, Mahvir spent most of his time speaking with Vivienne. Cassandra had once gathered they were talking about the circle and another time about the Chantry and the role it took in the world. It was odd though that Mahvir would even be interested in the circle let alone the chantry as he was Dalish and not a mage. Though, odd always did sum up the man.

"I'll come with you." Dorian followed her up the steps.

Cassandra grumbled under her breath. Just what she needed, Dorian to tag along. She had enough of the man during uncovering the Qunari plot. He had replaced Solas in the normal grouping Mahvir took with him. If the banter between Solas and Vivienne had been bad, it was nothing when compared with the jabs Vivienne and Dorian snapped back and forth.

Sure enough, Vivienne was near the balcony she had claimed. The last of her belongs were being packed by a few of the servants. The enchantress was staring out over the hall, her eyes locked on the Inquisitor's throne.

"Enchantress Vivienne," Cassandra greeted the mage, "is Mahvir here?"

Vivienne turned to them. "No, my dear seeker. I assumed he was in the courtyard."

"We just came from there," Cassandra informed the enchantress. "Mahvir wasn't there."

"It's odd because the man is always awake so early," Dorian added. "I thought for certain he would be waiting on us." The magister turned and started for the stairs. "He must still be asleep after last's night party."

"That's so unlike him." Vivienne fell in beside Cassandra as she followed Dorian down the steps and back into the man hall.

Dorian led the way across the hall and up the flights of steps towards the Inquisitor's room. "Mahvir?" he called.

There was no response.

Dorian knocked sharply. The door opened, showing it hadn't been closed all the way the night before.

"Odd." Vivienne frowned.

"After you, Cassandra." Dorian gave her one of his "winning" smiles.

Cassandra huffed. The man was being irritating. Though, she agreed with Vivienne, the door should have been closed.

Cassandra crossed into the room. Unease crept through her. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword. There was nothing to worry about. The room was empty save for one raven perched on the desk. Its dark beak shifted through the papers which had been left there from before the Exalted Council.

Vivienne strode across the room and waved at the raven. "Shoo!" Vivienne snapped at the bird.

The raven looked at her. Its red eyes gleamed in the light of early morning. It snapped its beak before returning to the papers.

Cassandra ignored the odd bird and looked at the bed. As always, it was made and appeared as if no one slept there. She moved over to the ladder in the room and climbed it. A few of the servants said Mahvir had a habit of sleeping up there. The space was empty.

Cassandra slid back down. She checked the other room. No sign of him there either. When she returned to the main room, it was to see Vivienne still at Mahvir's desk. She had pulled out the bottle from last night. The smallest of frowns was on her face.

The raven was still there as well. It had pulled a few papers from the stack.

Cassandra moved to the desk. She blinked at the documents. They were the ones she had helped draw up the other day on plans to help stop Solas. The raven hopped around the documents and it lifted them in its beak.

"Hey!" Cassandra snagged the documents from the bird.

It let out a caw of rage. Sharp talons bit into her hand.

"These aren't for you." Cassandra managed to draw her hand back with the documents.

The raven snapped its beak at her, feathers fluffed in rage.

"That is an extremely odd bird." Dorian moved over to the desk. "Off with you." He shooed the bird like Vivienne had.

The raven regarded Dorian for a moment. It then glared at Cassandra, snapped its beak, and jabbed a talon at the documents almost like it was demanding her to hand them over.

"Is it one of Leliana's birds?" Vivienne let out a small breath. She moved away as if the question didn't matter, still holding the bottle of wine. "He's not here. Did either of you check the library?"

"On the way to see if he was with you," Dorian replied. "And earlier. I was the only one there."

"What about the undercroft?" The sound of Vivienne starting down the steps followed.

Cassandra looked away from the bird and moved after them. The sound of wings filled the air. Cassandra was just in time to see the raven take off. A familiar item clasped in its claws. It was Mahvir's toolkit. She hadn't even noticed it on the desk.

"Hey!" Cassandra leapt at the raven.

The raven let out an angry caw and flew out onto the balcony. It dove and vanished towards the front of keep.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Vivienne asked.

"That bird just stole Mahvir's toolkit," Cassandra growled.

"You mean the one he used to make carvings for kids with?" Dorian asked.

"What other one does he have?" Cassandra turned on the magister.

Dorian scowled. He moved back to the stairs. "I'm checking the undercroft."

Damn bird. Cassandra shot a nasty look after where the raven had vanished. Then, she followed the two mages. She wasn't looking forward to telling Mahvir they'd let a raven steal his toolkit.

The morning was spent by the time Cassandra, Dorian, and Vivienne returned to the lower courtyard to see if Mahvir had turned up and was waiting for them there. He wasn't. The others from the inner circle were all there now.

"I heard you lot went to find Mahvir," Blackwall said in way of greeting to them. His dark eyes took in the fact he wasn't there. He frowned. "No luck then?"

"None," Cassandra confirmed.

"It's rather odd for him to just up and vanish," Dorian stated.

"I'd say," Varric agreed.

"He left already."

Cassandra turned to see Cole had just joined them. He blinked at them from under the brim of his hat.

"What do you mean 'he left,' weirdie?" Sera demanded.

"He left late last night," Cole repeated. "I woke, feeling great pain and followed a little way. It was him, the Inquisitor. He was in pain, heart aching. But, I couldn't tell more. It's hard to hear now," the boy said.

"Why would the boss just up and leave after saying he'd say goodbye to us in the morning?" Iron Bull demanded.

Cole blinked and shrugged. "I only know he was in pain when he left. Heart heavy with an old pain. It was hard to hear. It's always hard to hear his pain, buried under another voice, annoyed at me when I try."

"What? You're making less sense than usual, kid." Varric stepped up to the spirit.

"Never mind the demon," Vivienne stated. "We should find him."

"Did you try the crystal you gave him, _kadan_?" Iron Bull asked.

"No." Dorian's eyes brightened and he pulled out the crystal.

*~ _Mahvir_ ~*

Water echoed around the cave. Mahvir dropped his bag to the ground and looked around. The cave didn't go deep so there was no fear of Darkspawn rising to attack him. He glanced at the ceiling.

" _Any spiders_?" Deceit shivered in his mind.

" _No_ ," Mahvir replied smoothly to her. He let out a long breath, remembering how she had made it so the others in the Inquisition believed he was deathly afraid of spiders. It was Deceit's fear, not his. What Mahvir feared was something far worse than anything living.

" _Hey, spiders are frightening_ ," Deceit snapped at him. " _They're so, so_ ," she shivered again, trailing off.

" _Yes, yes, I know as you've recounted it every time we see one_." Mahvir stepped further into the cave. He placed all his weight on his left leg. He would miss this part of being the Inquisitor. How easy it was to breath and place weight on his left leg. Most of all, he would miss those he had come to call friend. Yet, he couldn't stop Solas as the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor couldn't unify his People, only those of other races who didn't want to see this world fall.

" _Are you ready yet_?" Deceit demanded. " _I'm tired of sharing a body already_."

"All right, all right," Mahvir muttered aloud.

Agony tore through Mahvir. Mahvir's legs gave way and he collapsed to the freezing stone. Bone snapped. Fire raced through his body. A scream tore from his lips then faded, replaced by the sound of a raven's scream of agony. A white raven collapsed on the ground. Blood dripped from one of her wings. Blue eyes shone with pain.

Fire raced through Mahvir's body strong than before. It echoed through time, curling around his bone, ripping his muscle, and searing his flesh. His fingers curled against frozen stone. Blood trailed at the ends of his renewed left hand. The scarred flesh glistened.

Sensations crashed down on Mahvir. Images raced over his eyes, taste washed over his tongue until it blurred to muck in his mouth. His ears rang with sound. Hands burned with touch.

Mahvir took in a deep breath. The frozen air burned his lungs. His chest tightened with each new breath he took. The images and sensations dulled.

He was him again.

"Mahvir?" a voice called in the distance. It echoed through time to him.

Mahvir took a struggled breath.

"Mahvir?"

He forced himself up. His arms shook with the effort, his body weak once more. The crystal Dorian had given him glowed near to his dropped bag.

Mahvir reached from the crystal, trying to even his breathing. A futile effort in the cold of cave. His right hand wrapped around the crystal. A burn scar was now visible over his hand. Mahvir lifted the crystal. It felt far heavier in his hand than it had before.

"I'm here, Dorian," Mahvir spoke in a clear a voice he could manage.

"Weirdie said you left this morning!" Sera's voice shouted over the crystal.

Pain stabbed Mahvir's heart. "I'm sorry, I couldn't stay," he stated.

"We were going to travel to Kirkwall together," Varric stated.

"I needed to leave right away," Mahvir explained. "Something's come up."

"If it's in your clan, you could have waited until the morning, my dear," Vivienne pointed out. "You worried all of us."

"It wasn't." Mahvir could see them through his second vision, all of them gathering around the crystal Dorian held. The friends of the Inquisitor. Not his. The Inquisitor's.

"That's stupid," Sera snorted.

"Look, dear," Vivienne started. "I am going to have everyone get together in a year's time. You had best remember to come."

"Ah, I will." Another lie. It was becoming difficult to maintain his voice at an even level. His breathing strained further.

"You'd better be in Kirkwall when I get there," Varric stated, sounding a little annoyed at Mahvir.

"Look, I have to go," Mahvir stated. He lowered the crystal and slipped it into the bag beside him. Mahvir leaned against the wall.

He wasn't even going to be heading for Kirkwall at all. The clan would have to wait. He closed his eyes, letting the images of the future pass over his vision. Solas's people would be moving towards the Exalted Plains. That was where Mahvir needed to go. A temple of Dirthamen was there, the upper levels picked clean, but the first steps to stopping Solas from repeating the past lay there. As were a few of his people who might be willing to join him. So, that was where Mahvir needed to go.

"That hurt!" Deceit cawed.

Mahvir kept his eyes closed; yet, he could see the raven as if they were open. She straightened and shook herself, white feathers fluffed and stained with blood. "It had better have been worth it, Dirthy."

"It was," he whispered. His mind flashed back to those he had served with over the past few years. "It was." Pain filled his heart. He was alone. He was forever alone.

A soft click sounded. A black raven had dropped bundle on top of Mahvir's bag.

"My thanks, Fear. I can't believe I forgot those." Mahvir opened his eyes and lifted his toolkit. "Cassandra stopped you from getting the plans, then?"

"And he has to ask," Fear snapped. He glared at Mahvir. "You already have the answer. Don't ask questions for the sake of hearing yourself talk. It's annoying."

Mahvir gave the raven a small smile. "Apologies, Fear." He tucked the toolkit into his bag as well. Then Mahvir pulled out several tattered layers of clothes. He pulled them on over the clothing he had been wearing. The black robes fell around him in many tattered layers. It was warmer than just the clothing he had been wearing when he left the keep.

He tugged on gloves and flexed his fingers. His left hand ached with the memory of pain. His arm and hand had returned as if they had never left his body. They hadn't in reality. The body which had held the anchor had been a form created from the fusion of his own body and Deceit's. It had been the only way the anchor would ever have attached to him in the first place.

Mahvir turned his hand. The burn scar lacing his fingers, hand, and wrists could been seen through the holes in the warn gloves. He stretched his fingers again, feeling the scarred flesh pull and resist the movement. The familiar feeling now almost foreign from the years spent with a normal enough hand.

He let out a low breath and made to stand. Pain lanced through his left leg before he had finished standing, echoing to him from the future. Mahvir returned to the ground. He pulled out a staff from the bag.

Right. He no longer had two good legs. Mahvir grabbed his bag and pulled himself to his feet with the aid of the staff.

"Let's go, you two." He looked at the ravens. The only companions allowed him for now. "We have a dread wolf to stop."

"Finally!" Fear launched himself into the air and landed on Mahvir's shoulder.

Deceit settled herself on the top of Mahvir's staff. "We should just let Solas destroy this world. The old was far more interesting."

"Imagine the fear it would bring." Fear snapped his beak.

Mahvir ignored them both and limped out of the cave into the cold day beyond. He would stop Solas. No matter what, he would protect this world and make up for the pain he had caused in his past, the lives he had destroyed. It was all he could do. The only reason in the cursed, eternal life Mahvir held.

*~ _The Past_ ~*  
*~ _Before the Conclave_ ~*

Rain beat against the _aravels_ , streaming off them as a waterfall. Mahvir stood in the slight shelter of a tree. Even this did little to hinder the down pour. The storm had blown in from the sea the night before. He had woken moments before the first drops struck him from an increasing ache which pulsed through his left leg and the left side of his body.

The clan slept through the rain. All but that was. Mahvir's eyes locked onto the _hahren's_ _aravel_. Theon seemed to have been woken by the rain judging by the soft candle light coming from his _aravel_.

Mahvir moved towards the _aravel_ , he placed his weight on his staff with each step he took. He paused and looked towards another _aravel_. A bird had just landed on the rim. A moment later, it vanished into the _aravel_.

Rain poured off Mahvir's hood as he watched the keeper's _aravel_. The air felt thick with far more than the humidity of the rain. His eyes narrowed. Something was stirring on the horizon. Sure enough, Deshanna stepped from her _aravel._ She bolted across the camp towards Theon's but stopped when her eyes locked onto Mahvir.

"Mahvir!" she gestured for him to follow her before she finished crossing to Theon's _aravel_. She knocked. " _Hahren_ , it's me and Mahvir!"

"Come in," Theon voice sounded from within the _aravel_.

Deshanna moved into the _aravel_ first and held the door open for Mahvir. A small breath escapsed him. Steps. He took hold of the door frame with his right hand. His staff was placed on the step as he used both it and the _aravel_ to pull himself into the space. Water trailed after him.

" _Ir abelas, Hahren_ Theon," Mahvir apologized, speaking respectfully to the clan's eldest member.

Theon looked at him, both of his thin, white, wispy eyebrows raised at this. "It's just Theon to you, _ma falon_." He gray eyes softened. "Don't worry about the water. It's part of living on the move like we do." The old elf stood, a fur wrapped around his shoulders. "To what do you I owe this visit to, Keeper," – Theon bowed his to Deshanna; then to Mahvir – "Toymaker?" He addressed Mahvir by the nickname or "honorary" title the children had given him long ago.

"I am curious about this myself." Mahvir gave Deshanna a small smile and gestured for her to tell them what was going on.

"You're both aware I sent a few of the clan to the closest city in order to gather news and trade for supply."

"Yes." Theon settled himself back on his bed. He wrapped his fur tighter around his thin shoulders. "I take it something is happening within the human cities?"

Deshanna nodded. "The Divine called a conclave and is gathering the mage and templar leaders to find a peaceful solution to their war." Her gaze turned troubled.

"Hmm." Mahvir frowned. "It's a smart move. Both groups respect the Chantry, especially the Divine."

"The outcome of those talks will affect even us Dalish and this is what worries me." Deshanna looked at Mahvir. Her gaze flickered back to Theon. "I was thinking of sending either my First or one of our best hunters to the Conclave in order to report back to us what happens there. I would rather be ready in case the templars came after us as well or even the mages or Chantry. Our clan needs to be ready no matter the outcome."

Mahvir looked at Theon to see his oldest friend's lips pulled into a thoughtful frown. "How long until Divine's Conclave takes place?"

"Just enough time to decide on who goes and allow for them to travel to the Frostback Mountains where it's to be held."

Theon nodded. "I agree the outcome of the talks will affect the People and even the clans which choose to wander the Free Marches. Perhaps especially us given the events which took place in Kirkwall." Theon turned his gaze on Mahvir. "What are your thoughts on this matter, Shartan?" Theon dropped Mahvir's chosen name for the one Mahvir had held over ten centuries ago.

"I'm not a member of Lavellan," Mahvir pointed out.

Theon gave a sharp laugh at this while Deshanna snorted. "You've been an honorary member since before the clan was even fully founded," the keeper stated. "We are, after all, the only clan you've trusted with your identity for the past ten centuries."

"Err, given the Dales fell only eight centuries ago," Mahvir started.

"Oh, hush." Deshanna glared at him.

Mahvir chuckled. "Very well, I see your point, Keeper."

"Deshanna." The keeper wagged her finger at him.

"Keeper," Mahvir teased with a sly smile.

"Honestly," Deshanna huffed.

Theon chuckled softly. "I would still like your opinion on the matter, Shartan," the clan _hahren_ pressed.

Mahvir leaned against the wood part of the wall. "The Conclave is important and will have an effect on our people," – more than these two could ever possibly know – "but it will also be extremely dangerous. You can only afford to send one person, especially with effects of the sickness still lingering in the clan."

Deshanna closed her eyes. "This is true."

Mahvir had arrived in the clan a few months ago after Fear had delievered a message to him the clan had fallen to illness. He had rushed here to find Teren, the clan healer, extremely ill. His apprentice had passed to the illness along with many of the children which had been in the clan. Mahvir had been able to air the First and Keeper in healing Teren. The hunters were still weak from the sickness.

It was a stroke of luck Theon, the oldest member of the clan, hadn't been affected by the illness at all. Granted, this might have been because Deshanna had ordered him to stay far from the healer's _aravel_.

Deshanna took a deep breath. "The girl you raised, she's one of the finest huntresses we have. She could—"

Mahvir lifted his hand to stop the Deshanna. "I will go."

Silence greeted his words. Both Theon and Deshanna stared at him.

"Come again?" Deshanna asked. "I must be hearing things because it just sounded like you volunteered to go to the Conclave."

"No, you're hearing is fine, Keeper Deshanna." Mahvir looked at her a soft smile on his face. "I will go to conclave."

For a moment Deshanna just stared at him then she stepped towards him. Her hand was light on his arm. "Shartan," she started, her tone patient as she had used with the young of clan countless time, "you're in no condition to go to the Conclave." Her gaze lingered on the left side of his body where his baggy, tattered clothing hide the burn scar marring that half of him.

It was true he couldn't walk more than a few feet without his staff and his lung were a wreck after the fire which had nearly taken his life. Still, this didn't make Mahvir useless. He had his tricks. A trick which would allow him to pass as a completely normal, healthy, and Dalish elf.

Besides, out of all those Deshanna had been considering, Mahvir was the best option for the future of their people.

Mahvir placed his hand over Deshanna. "I know you're worried, Deshanna, but I can do this." He glanced at Theon who just watched them, lost in thought. "I have a way which will make me healthy and normal," he informed Deshanna.

The keeper hesitated. "Let's see it." She stepped back. There was pain and fear in her hazel gaze despite the calm of her features.

" _Deceit, to me_ ," Mahvir ordered over his mental link with the demon.

" _Slave driver_ ," the demon returned in annoyance.

Mahvir opened the door. A white raven flew into the _aravel_ and landed on his shoulder. Mahvir shut the door behind the raven.

" _What do you want, Dirthy_?" she demanded, looking at with piercing blue eyes.

She was there for only a heartbeat before Mahvir forced her to fuse with him. Pain lanced through his body, swarming through him as fire in the veins. The agony escaped him as only a gasp. He collapsed to his knees. Pins pricked at his flesh, feeling almost molten. He forced forward the illusion and more deceitful magic of the demon instead of the normal form he took when fused with her.

As fast as it started, it was over. Mahvir was staring at his hands, curled against the wooden floor.

" _That hurt, Dirthy. Give me warning next time you want to fuse and shift the fusion._ "

" _Apologies, Deceit. I will keep that in mind for the next time_."

"W-what?" Deshanna started. She knelt beside him, her hand warm against his back. "Theon, do you know what that was?"

"I believe it was a form a magic Shartan has never told us about. Though, I see why he doesn't use it often, looked rather painful."

"It was," Mahvir gasped. "Far more than if I just put up with a lame leg and bad lungs." He took a deep breath. Though it shuddered from the pain he'd just gone through, no restriction came. His lungs expanded freely for the first time in centuries. He let out a soft laugh.

"Let's see." Deshanna's finger was light on Mahvir's chin. She forced him to look at her. Her eyes widened. "Creators, I don't believe it." She smiled. "You look like you were raised Dalish, _ma falon_."

It was more than just the lack of pain. The world felt almost silent. Mahvir stood, smiling as no pain lanced through his leg, no feeling of future pain or the pain of the past intensifying the feeling of placing weight on his leg.

Theon nodded. "You're right, keeper, he does look Dalish now." Theon smiled. "Now, we just need to get him into leathers to fully fit the part."

Mahvir held up his hand. "Dalish leathers will stand out at the Conclave," he reminded them to why he was doing this.

"This is true." Deshanna bowed her head. "We'll get you clothing which will one: not stand out and two: help hide your _vallaslin_." She laughed as if she couldn't believe she'd just said that. Then shook her head. "How long will this disguise last?"

"At most, four years if I am lucky," Mahvir replied.

"Well, the Conclave shouldn't last that long." Deshanna smiled. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I hope to see in a few months."

Mahvir chuckled. "Perhaps." Though, before he had lost it, his sight had told him if all went well he would be in this disguise for almost three years.

"Now, let's get your disguise rounded out with a backstory and ready to head out," – a sly smile curled Deshanna's lips – " _da'len_." Her smile widened. "Mythal's mercy, I never thought I'd call you, Shartan, _da'len_."

Mahvir laughed. "Get used to it for the time I'm like this, Deshanna." He coughed. "Though, I should now really call you Keeper Deshanna."

The keeper huffed. "Yes, yes, very well, back your being too formal for your own good."

Theon laughed from where he still sat. "Now, you don't call him ' _hahren_ ,' _ma falon_. It is always just Theon to you, no matter how you appear."

"Very well, Theon." Mahvir bowed to the old elf. Then he looked to Deshanna. "Shall we, Keeper?"

She nodded, his eyes shining with amusement and worry.

* * *

 _Ir abelas_ – I'm sorry  
 _Vallaslin_ – Blood writing, it is the name for the tattoos the Dalish wear  
 _Hahren_ – elder  
 _ma falon_ – my friend  
 _da'len_ – little child

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** All right, yes, Mahvir is Shartan in my head canon, not Solas. After the events of _Trespasser_ , I realized Solas couldn't be Shartan without having too many plot holes (why the heck didn't he try to destroy the world then? It's the same world as now). But I didn't like the idea of Shartan just being an idea. There is too much to counter that theory in the gauntlet during Origins. So, what better plan then to make him something close to Solas, but different. _Forgotten Embers_ was going to go over how Mahvir takes the name Shartan and ends up becoming that historic figure, but I needed to finish _Final Hour_ first. Still doing research for lore videos as wells as that book.

For anyone who is reading _Blood of the People_ and has read _Heart of the People_ , this Mahvir is the same one as there, just in my own run throughs of the game instead of Herenya's. **)**


	3. Plain's Edge

**Reviews are greatly loved.**

* * *

Pain, the sound of it almost echoed over the plains into a hollow whisper within the night. Mahvir paused. The scent of grass hung heavy on the air. It rustled within the wind until the tips brushed over his tattered robes. Mahvir lifted his gaze to the horizon.

The Dales.

He closed his eyes and drew in the familiar scents of the Exalted Plains. There was no sound of war or scent of burning grasses as the two armies clashed. All was quiet for the first time in many years. Or as quiet as it could be. Sound trickled to Mahvir from the future. The softness of bare feet against the hard, dry ground of the plains.

The sound became reality. The softness of steps moved ever closer to him, so quiet no human would have been able to detect them. Fingers dragged over feathers as a bow string was drawn back.

Mahvir opened his eyes. "A lovely evening, wouldn't the both of you agree, _lethallan_?"

The sound froze.

Mahvir turned to the two of the People. Both held their bows, arrows notched so they were pointed at him. They wouldn't attack, not yet. He smiled at them from under his hood. "I am quite curious," he started, tone smooth, "do you two belong to Hawen's Clan or is there another clan nearby I'm unaware of?"

"Hawen's," growled the male hunter. "Name your business, _shem_."

" _Shem_?" Mahvir chuckled at this. It had been ages since he had been mistaken a human. "I beg your pardon, but I am of the People, _da'len_ , or do you expect very _shem_ to speak our People's mother tongue?"

The hunter bristled. "Watch your tongue, _flat-ear_."

Mahvir just smiled at this. He had many retorts he could give to such a statement; however, he would prefer not being skewered at the end of a bow. " _Ir abelas, da'len_." Mahvir bowed low to the hunters. "I meant no offense by the question. However," – he rose a little from the bow, eyes locked on the hunters – "I would like to speak with Keeper Hawen. It is a matter of importance."

"At this time of night?" the second hunter asked. She had lowered her bow very so slightly when he had apologized in elvish.

"It is a matter related to those among our People leaving," Mahvir explained.

She lifted her bow. "What would you know of it, _flat-ear_?" she hissed the question.

"A little defensive, aren't we?" Mahvir gave a light laugh at this. "I am merely a wonderer who seeks to share knowledge before moving on his way."

"I think he's telling the truth," the first hunter whispered to his companion. "At the very least, we should let Keeper Hawen decide."

The girl scowled. "Fine." She lowered her bow. "But don't you even think of trying anything funny."

"I wouldn't dream of stealing from the People." Mahvir gave them another bow. " _Ma serannas, da'len_."

The two hunters took the lead.

Mahvir moved behind them. Pain tingled through his left leg and he placed weight onto his staff with every other step he took. The hunters set a brisk pace across the plains towards a dim flickering light of a campfire. It was half hidden by the hill Hawen had his clan camped behind.

Claws wrapped around Mahvir's lungs as he forced himself to keep pace with the young hunters. His breathing grew ragged until it felt as if he was trying to draw breath through a pillow. He drew a small plant from his bag and placed it into his mouth, breathing in the juices. His lungs eased until he could draw breath once more.

Hawen was awake. He stood before the fire, his gaze distant as he watched the embers flicker up into the night. His brow was creased with worry until the lines of Andruil's _vallaslin_ were pulled to make parts of the bow appear as one line in places instead of two. His white hair seemed almost orange in the glow of the fire.

"Keeper," the first hunter greeted Hawen with a slight bow, "we found this flat-ear while we were scouting."

Hawen straightened. He turned, gaze still distant, movement almost slow. " _Ma serannas, da'len_. Please, return to scouting."

"Of course, keeper." The two move of them moved off into the night. It left Mahvir with the keeper and the clan.

"It is odd to see a city elf so far from an alienage. Are you one of," his tone darkened, hand moving to his staff, " _his_ men?"

"By this 'him,' I presume you're speaking of Fen'Harel," Mahvir started in way of greeting to the old keeper.

Hawen stiffened. His fingers wrapped around his staff, eyes narrowed. Every part of him was ready for battle.

"I am not one of Fen'Harel's men, rather one who seeks to stand in his way," Mahvir continued.

Hawen dropped his hand from his staff. "You don't follow him?" he asked, distrust still visible in his eyes.

"No," Mahvir replied simply. "There is no turning back the hands of time. While the past should never be forgotten, our People should seek the future." And to do this, Mahvir couldn't be the Inquisitor. Not that he even looked too much like he had before. His face bare now; body scarred and branded. "If I may," – he gestured to his bag – "I have a letter."

Hawen frowned but gave the slightest incline of his head.

Mahvir pulled out an old letter. It had been sealed and kept in pristine condition from centuries ago by his bag. He held out the letter to Hawen.

The keeper took it with a slight frown. His gaze lingered on the warn parchment, to the ancient seal of the old Dales. It was one of ten such letters which had been written by a dear friend of Mahvir's at the fall of the Dales.

"This seal," Hawen started, "I've seen such seals before on documents the Inquisitor recovered from the Emerald Graves, but they were broken." Hawen traced the seal with his fingers. Then he carefully broke it. He closed his eyes as if breaking the seal had been a physical blow. The keeper took a deep breath and pulled the letter from the envelope.

Back before the fall of the Dales, Mahvir had been known to more than just one small clan as to having been Shartan. It had still been a closely guarded secret especially given most would wonder how it was Mahvir had managed to regain their People's immortality. Each of the ten letters he held had been to future generations from the last of the priests of the creators regarding Mahvir's true identity.

If the letter was presented, then it was only because Mahvir needed aid for the good of their people. It was honestly the only reason Mahvir would ever come out with one piece of his past to others. He had no desire to be viewed in a high light. He wasn't a god. He wasn't a savior. He was just him.

Mahvir watched Hawen, studying the way he reacted as he read the letter. The keeper traced the letter's ancient parchment with his fingers before his gaze moved to the first lines. The curiosity and wonder in his eyes faded as he read. Color started to drain from his face until the letter shook in his hands. He glanced at Mahvir; then continued with the letter; then looked at Mahvir and back again.

"Is what this says true?" Hawen queried when he finished reading the letter. His gaze locked on Mahvir over the top of the letter. "Are you him? Are you really," his voice dropped in volume, "Shartan?" There was a hint of wonder behind the name. "We were taught he was killed alongside Andraste."

Mahvir took a deep, shuddering breath. His lungs strained from the trip here. The staff fell against his shoulder. He lifted his hands and removed his tattered gloves to reveal the burn scar covering both hands as gloves. He rolled up the sleeve of his left arm just passed his elbow. The scar continued up his arm and vanished under the sleeve. Then Mahvir removed the scarf from around his neck to reveal the burn on the left side of his neck. The lower part of his left ear melded to his jaw from the burn. The burn vanished into his hair.

"Creators," Hawen breathed. His eyes widened until the white framed his eyes. " _Ir abelas, hahren_ ," Howen bowed to Mahvir, "I should have believed the letter without having you show me proof."

"It's quite all right, Keeper." Mahvir pulled back down his sleeves. "By all rights, I should have died that day. My bindings burned off before the fire could kill me and I managed to escape while all eyes were on Andraste." Blood poured into the flames before his eyes. Andraste hung limp, her auburn hair burning, blood pouring from her neck. He had reached for her, only to know she was gone forever.

Mahvir took another deep breath to drive the images from his mind. It was in the past. He couldn't save her then and there was no point in dwelling on his heart's death. Now, he needed to focus on the future for both his people and the world Andraste had loved so deeply.

"How many has Fen'Harel swayed from your clan?" Mahvir asked. Though, he already knew the answer. His gaze skimmed the small group. Only a few of Hawen's best had left.

"Four," Hawen replied, "along with my new first." He scowled at this. The keeper looked at Mahvir. "What do you plan on doing about this situation, _hahren_? Our children can't fall to the Dread Wolf."

"It isn't the Dread Wolf I'm worried about, it's what he plans for our People and our world. To recreate Elvhenan, he must destroy this world," Mahvir informed Hawen, "and everyone in it, including his followers."

Hawen paled.

"I plan on gathering as many of the People who will listen to counter his own forces. This matter involves all of our people and is for their very future."

Hawen bowed his head. "It will be an honor to fight alongside you. My clan stands beside you, Shartan."

" _Ma serannas_ , Keeper Hawen, but there's no need to sound so formal." Mahvir gave him a soft smile.

The words made the keeper blink. He bowed his head. "Come, you must be tired from your journey here." Hawen turned and gestured for Mahvir to follow him.

"That's unnecessary, Keeper Hawen. I'm fine out here."

The keeper frowned. He looked ready to argue at this.

"In the morning, I will like to speak with you over matters related to the Dread Wolf."

Hawen hesitated. His gaze flickered around the small camp. "All right," the keeper replied. "Are you certain you wouldn't like an _aravel_ , _hahren_?"

"I'm fine." Mahvir bowed his head before he lifted back up his hood. He limped away from the fire and towards the river. Mahvir settled himself on the ground, leg stretched out before him. His hand rested on the leg. An ache had settled into the leg over the course of the day and the long walk here.

The first step was complete. One clan, no matter how small it was becoming was now on his side. Still, it was a small victory. There were those among the clan who wouldn't trust him right away. Also, Mahvir still needed to get into the lower parts of the temple of Dirthamen before Solas did. There was much to do and little time to accomplish it in.

" _Fear_."

" _I'm here_." Fear landed beside Mahvir.

" _Take this to Deshanna. I'm going to gather a few along the way to Kirkwall_."

Fear snapped his beak in annoyance but didn't voice a complaint aloud. He took the letter from Mahvir before launching into the dark night.

Mahvir took a deep breath, in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth. The cool night bit into his lungs. Tomorrow. Mahvir closed his eyes. Tomorrow more would learn who he had been a thousand years ago. It was a matter he wasn't looking forward to. He never wanted to be someone great again, but he couldn't stand by and let Solas destroy this world as he had done with Elvhenan. This world was a wonderful place. If only there was a way to get Solas to see this.

" _You're deluding yourself_ ," Deceit snapped at him.

" _I know_."

*~ _Dorian_ ~*

Dorian's head ached. He had made it to Jader after only a week's worth of travel. Varric had come with him this far, needing to take a boat across to the Free Marches. It wasn't the dwarf's company which had Dorian ready to pull out his hair, rather the company of his so called "guard" from the Imperium who had met them there.

"Say, Sparkler, do they ever let you out of their sights?" Varric asked, eying the guard.

Dorian grumbled. He, for once, had no witty remark for the dwarf. According to the accursed letter the guard had on them, they were to escort Dorian safely across Nevarra and into Imperium territory.

Iron Bull eyed them over his tankard. "If they keep giving me the stink eye," his lover started.

"I know, _Amatus_ ," Dorian whispered.

"I know just the thing to take all our minds off them." Varric set down his own tankard with a small _thump_. "You pull out that crystal of yours and let all of us speak with the Inquisitor."

"That is the first good suggestion you've had all day." Dorian pulled out the crystal and set it on the table. "Mahvir, you there?" he asked as the soft light bounced off Varric's tankard.

There was a long moment before an answer came over the crystal. "Dorian? It's rather late." Mahvir's breathing sounded strand as if he had been running. His voice was also very quiet as if he was around other's who were sleeping.

"I thought you would be missing my voice by now." Dorian felt himself smile. It was good to hear the Inquisitor's calm voice, no matter how breathless it sounded.

"Hey, boss, you with a girl or something? You sound out of breath." Bull smirked as he leaned towards the crystal.

Mahvir gave a soft laugh.

"Since when has the Inquisitor been with a girl?" Varric demanded. He pulled out a notebook and a quill. "Though, do tell, Inquisitor. If you are I need to make corrections to my book."

"Yes, I'm so with a girl right now, Varric. The prettiest of them all."

"Oh, do tell." Dorian leaned forward. Then he sighed. "You're not, are you? You're leading us on."

Dorian could just picture a smile, soft and ever knowing, curling Mahvir's lips and wrinkling the purple _vallaslin_ of Dirthamen. "Since when have I ever said 'yes' to any of the girls we encountered?" Mahvir's voice was calm. There was always a note to his voice which reminded Dorian of an extremely wise, old man even when he was teasing them. Though, Mahvir had stated himself he was only in twenties.

"You really need to loosen up, boss, the world's not ending just yet. Have a drink."

"I doubt there are any taverns close to where I'm at, Iron Bull."

"You're not in Jadar?" Varric pressed. "It doesn't sound like you're on the Waking Sea just yet either."

"No, I'm within the Dales."

"What possessed you to go there?" Dorian demanded. A flicker of worry shot through him. Mahvir had stated only three weeks ago his adventuring days were over especially not he was missing his left arm.

"Hawen's clan wanders the Dales, _ma falon_ ," Mahvir stated, using the elven term for friend.

"What did you need with Hawen?" This was just getting more and more confusing.

A small breath came from Mahvir. "My people are splitting," the words were soft, almost pained as if this truth was a splinter to Mahvir's heart. "I needed to speak with Hawen over what's happening."

"What if he was part of Chuckle's group?" Varric demanded. "Did you think about that?"

Mahvir laughed at this. "Varric, you under estimate the power of fear the Dalish have for the Dread Wolf. The more traditionalists among the clans would never side with Fen'Harel no matter what he's offering them."

"If I recall, that man was extraordinarily traditional when it came to the recovered ways of your people," Dorian mused. He stroked his mustache as he remembered, with great fondness, the many errands Hawen had set them to prove their friendship to his clan. Even after the man had been very wary of Dorian and Cassandra especially. He spoke only with Mahvir or Solas and even seemed distant towards Solas. "How many have left his clan?"

Mahvir didn't answer.

"That bad?" Dorian pressed.

"It's not a matter I should discuss, even with you three."

"What? Don't trust us? You wound me."

Mahvir chuckled. It sounded almost sad. "Forgive me, Dorian, but right now this is matter for the People."

"So, if Buttercup was here you'd tell us?" Varric asked.

"Sera doesn't consider herself an elf," Mahvir stated.

"True."

"So, if you're not with a girl, why are you out of breath, boss?" Iron Bull asked.

No reply.

"Mahvir, what's wrong?" Dorian asked, voice now sweet.

"Hmm? I was thinking, sorry."

"So, you weren't avoiding Iron Bull's question." Dorian felt himself smile a little. "I thought you were better at this grand 'game' as you southerners call it."

"That's only in Orlais, Sparkler," Varric reminded him.

Dorian shot a glare at the dwarf over the crystal. "I'm well aware, but our dear Inquisitor is currently in Orlais. So are we for that matter."

"Come now, Sparkler, you can't keep grouping all of us south of the Imperium together. It's insulting."

"Hmm." Iron Bull gave a thoughtful hum around his tankard. He set it down. "I've been thinking, Varric, why did you never give the boss a nickname?"

"Inquisitor fits him, Tiny."

"You call him 'Herald' before that," Dorian pointed out.

"So?"

"So, Herald and Inquisitor can't both be the all-encompassing nickname you can come up with, Varric. After all, you called me Sparkle only moments after meeting me."

"You must have one for the boss." Iron Bull smirked a little.

"Do you hear this, Inquisitor? They're corning me into giving you a nickname."

Mahvir chuckled. "I believe I have enough nicknames and titles, Varric."

Titles. Dorian remembered how much Mahvir had hated it when he had called the man "Inquisitor" after a time. The more titles he had gained, the less Mahvir had liked being the focus of the Inquisition. Yet, Mahvir had only shown this part of himself to those he was closest to. Those who wouldn't judge him for it. Mainly Dorian. Vivienne, well, it was safe to say she would never understand where Mahvir was coming from. Cassandra had been too focused on the goals of the Inquisition.

Mahvir was an odd man, to say the least. While he was a rouge, he put a lot on knowledge. He had once told Dorian, having the knowledge allows for better control of the battlefield, a greater understanding of where the enemy stood.

"You like making toys for kids, so Toymaker?" Varric asked.

"You're giving him the choice."

Mahvir laughed. "Believe it or not, Deshanna calls me that already." The sound from the other side muffled.

Dorian could just make out hushed words which seemed to come from Keeper Hawen. "We've prepared a place for you to stay, _hahren_."

"I am honestly fine out here, Keeper." Mahvir's tone had changed, sounding wiser despite being muffled by his hand over the crystal. Then the crystal went dark as Mahvir no doubt tucked it away.

Dorian frowned.

"Well that was odd, even for Toymaker," Varric voiced. "Hmm, Daisy said that word the keeper called him once." The dwarf frowned.

 _Hahren_? Dorian thought back on the elvish had asked Mahvir to teach him after learning the Inquisitor's name meant "Tomorrow" in the elven language. "It means elder, roughly," Dorian explained after a moment. "Mahvir taught me a little of his people's language," he explained at Varric's look.

"Don't elves guard that knowledge?" Varric asked. "I asked Daisy to teach me once and she refused."

"You should have asked the boss. He gave me a few words here and there, but it was mainly what his and Solas's names meant."

"And that would be?" Varric pressed.

"Tomorrow and pride. Guess which is which?" Dorian couldn't help but smirk at the dwarf. If anyone just asked Mahvir if his name meant anything, the Inquisitor had been more than willing to explain.

"Well, Toymaker seems less gloomy so 'tomorrow' is his name. Pride would have to be Chuckle's."

"Yeah, you got it." Iron Bull nodded.

Dorian let out a small breath. He looked at the dark crystal. "He's only in his late twenties," he muttered.

"Hmm?"

"I was saying, Mahvir is about twenty-seven or twenty-eight now, why would Hawen call him 'elder'?"

Varric shrugged. "You'll give yourself a headache trying to figure out why Dalish do anything."

Well, this was true. The south was still strange to him at times. Still – he looked back at the crystal – two of the people he thought he understood and knew the best were Iron Bull and Mahvir. Mahvir was his best friend. Iron Bull his lover. He knew he could rely on both no matter what the situation. No – Dorian shoved the thought from his mind. He was being ridicules. Mahvir trusted him with even his darkest secrets from his time within the clan. There were no secrets between them.

*~ _Mahvir_ ~*

Mahvir tucked away the crystal, mentally cursing himself for not seeing Hawen wouldn't be happy letting Shartan sleep outside. Dorian and the others would have heard Hawen call him " _hahren_ ," but only Dorian knew what that meant.

"An _aravel_ has been prepared," Hawen continued as if he hadn't heard Mahvir's protest.

A small breath escaped Mahvir. He used his staff to pull himself to his feet. Hawen was at his side in a second. The keeper's hands wrapped around Mahvir's arm as he helped him back to his feet. Worry appeared in Hawen's eyes.

"Are you all right, _hahren_?"

"Keeper, please, stop calling me ' _hahren_.' I look to be in my twenties," Mahvir pointed out. Besides, Mahvir didn't much like the way people, especially his people, suddenly treated him differently upon learning who he had been a thousand years ago. Still, if he had any hopes of uniting those who didn't see eye-to-eye with Solas among the People or disliked him for the simple fact he was the Dread Wolf, Mahvir had no choice but to take back his old name.

Hawen frowned. His gaze locked onto Mahvir's. In the darkness of the night, Mahvir knew his eyes appeared to be black.

"You are an elder," the keeper replied, his tone smooth. There was a small smile on his face. "The most honored of elders."

That sounded almost like something Theon would have said and not Keeper Hawen. Mahvir couldn't stop a small smile after the thought of his oldest friend. Then he took a deep breath, "Very well, Keeper." He gestured for Hawen to lead the way. " _Ma serannas_ for your hospitality." There was no point in arguing against the keeper giving Mahvir one of the spare _aravels_.

Hawen led Mahvir towards where the _aravels_ were hidden. The keeper kept his pace slow, no doubt having noticed Mahvir's limp. Mahvir bit back telling the keeper he could manage a normal pace. After the journey here and being forced to the pace the hunters had set, Mahvir knew he couldn't handle a normal pace. His lungs still burned.

The _aravel_ Hawen led Mahvir to was placed to the side of the others. The keeper entered first, moving up the steps with a practiced ease. He turned just inside the _aravel_ and held out his hand to Mahvir.

Mahvir took a deep breath. He felt his lungs pull from the chill of the night. He took the keeper's offered hand and used his staff for a boost up onto the first step. It was far easier to get into an _aravel_ with aid than it would have been to pull himself in. Heat spread over Mahvir's ears. He was grateful for his hood and the darkness of the night so Hawen couldn't see the blush.

" _Ma serannas_ , Keeper Hawen," Mahvir bowed his head when he was in the _aravel_.

 _Aravels_ outside of the keeper's, clan _hahren's_ , and clan healer's, were small. Every clan had a different style of building them as well. Most of the older _aravels_ held two beds tucked on either side of the space, much like this one. At the back were shelves to store clothing and other such items. More storage was placed under both of the beds.

Clan Lavellan had used traded clothes and furs of what they had hunted to make up the beds. Hawen's clan had been given mats by the Inquisition upon Mahvir's request for each of the _aravels_ the clan currently had. This _aravel_ wasn't an exception, though, now Mahvir was seeing what it had done. The softer bed rolls had been placed on the beds. Furs covered only one of the beds and looked to have just been aided.

There was no need to ask who's _aravel_ this had been. Mahvir knew it belonged to the clan's first who had left the clan to join Fen'Harel.

" _Ma serannas_ , Keeper." Mahvir bowed his head. Right then, it felt as if Mahvir had done nothing but thank the keeper. "We'll speak more in the morning, then?" He kept a hint of a question in his voice.

"I think so." Hawen smiled. "Creator's permit you a good sleep, _Hahren_ Shartan." Hawen slipped from the _aravel_.

A blur of white shot over the keeper and into the _aravel_. The door closed with a snap. Deceit landed on the second bed, her feathers fluffed. "He almost hit me," she snapped her beak, speaking a loud for the first time. More because there was no need to fear her being overheard right then.

Mahvir let out a small breath. He leaned his staff against the narrow sliver of wall by the door. He had been happy to sleep outside. Besides it was unlikely he would get more than a few hours of sleep at best. Visions of the past haunted him every time he slept. Dreams within the Fade were forever beyond Mahvir. His sight locked on moments of time rather such wonders which could unfold within the dream realm.

The furs were soft when Mahvir settled himself on the bed. The entire bed was too soft. He chuckled. Though, if he was honest with himself, nowhere near as soft as the bed back at Skyhold. That one had been impossible to sleep in unless Solas had forced Mahvir into a sleep.

Mahvir settled himself onto the furs and stared at the dark ceiling of the _aravel_.

Tomorrow.

He closed his eyes.

Tomorrow would mark the real start of stopping Solas. Mahvir took a deep breath. The familiar scent of halla and furs filled his nose. It was a scent of being within a clan. Warmth filled him. This wasn't Clan Lavellan, but it was one of the clans of his People. Would it be home to him? Home was wherever he was needed. The longest he had spent in one place was within the Dales before his people's isolationist views had ended up working against them during the blight.

Mahvir focused his vision on images of the Inquisition and his time there. If he was to sleep, he wanted his "dreams" to be of the past few years. To not have the familiar haunting of Andraste's death or the downfalls of his people race over his eyes over and over again.

He felt himself drift to sleep.

* * *

Elvish:

 _Ma serannas_ – my thanks or thank you.

Tevene:

 _Amatus_ – term of endearment (wiki)

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** For the other translations of elvish see chapter 2.

So far, the story is being told by Mahvir/ Shartan, Dorian, and Cassandra. I am going to debate about Solas being a point of view character or not.

Also, updates are now on Tuesdays after I write and edit the chapter. It gives me time to work on other fan-fictions, my youtube channel, and keep with school. **)**


	4. Hawen's Clan

**Reviews are greatly loved.**

* * *

Flames burned at the edge of Mahvir's vision. The heat seared flesh, biting deeper with each passing second. Fire leapt up around him. Mahvir turned his gaze, feeling the heat against his jaw and head. The scent of burning hair mingled with burning flesh. He could feel the bindings holding him loosen. He strained forward. Pain lanced through his body. Then he was on the ground before the pyre.

 _Andraste_. Mahvir struggled to breathe through the growing smoke. His eyes burned from it. _Andraste_. Mahvir pulled himself to his feet. Pain coursed through his body. His gaze locked onto the pyre close to his. He reached out. He had to reach her.

Flames wrapped around his hands. His eyes locked onto her, skin shriveling in the fire. Blood stained her chest. Auburn hair whipped in the flames, embers caught on the strands.

All eyes were locked on her.

No!

Mahvir staggered back.

" _Dirthy_!" A voice filled his mind.

This wasn't real. Andraste, she couldn't be gone.

Two ravens fell from the sky towards him.

Pain tore deep into his heart. "No!" His voice ripped through air. His eyes burned as power and pain surged through his veins. The flames froze. Movement ceased. Tears burned his eyes yet couldn't fall.

His eyes locked on the one responsible. "Murderer," his voice rasped. His legs shook as Mahvir forced a step forward.

"We must leave now, Dirth!" Fear took hold of what remained of Mahvir's clothes. The demon forced itself into Mahvir.

A scream tore from Mahvir as wings ripped apart his burned back. Fear's power surged through him. " _Na'din_ ," Mahvir hissed.

" _Dirth_!" Fear shrieked in his mind.

Darkness swarmed over Mahvir's vision.

Mahvir jolted awake. His breaths came in short, sharp bursts. His eyes locked onto the ceiling of the _aravel_. It had only been a vision of the past. His hands shook as he placed them over his eyes. A vision of the past. He closed his eyes.

The warmth of tears leaked through the countless holes of his gloves. He had seen her death coming and lived through the pain of it. He had moved too slow to save her. If Mahvir had been healthy even back then, would have been able to save her? The question rang unanswered through his mind.

He lifted his hands. The gloves hid the scars which wrapped his hands from when had reached for her. He flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar resistance as the scarred skin pulled. The ancestor of Clan Lavellan had helped Mahvir gain more use of his hands and his leg in the years following Andraste's death.

Darkness clung to the _aravel_. In all likelihood, only a few hours had passed since Mahvir had fallen asleep. He pushed himself up, feeling his arms strain under the weight of his frame. He took a deep breath. His lungs clear thanks to the warmth of the _aravel_.

"You slept only three hours, Dirthy."

Mahvir looked towards where Deceit had nested herself on the second bed. Her blue eyes almost glowed in the darkness. "I know," he whispered, voice soft even to his own ears. He clasped his hands before him.

Mahvir pulled out the crystal Dorian had given him, dark now in the late hours of the night. The Teventer mage would be asleep or enjoy what little time remained with his lover before an early morning. Mahvir weighed the crystal in his hand.

Dorian had heard Hawen call him " _hahren_ " only hours ago. "I could tell him," Mahvir whispered to himself. "Confess everything." He half closed his eyes. Pain stabbed deep into his heart.

There had been many times he wanted to tell all his closest friends everything throughout his time in the Inquisition. Yet, even without his foresight, his fear of rejection had surfaced. If he told Dorian the truth now… Mahvir closed his eyes. He couldn't stand the thought of rejection from Dorian, Varric, Cassandra, Iron Bull, Cole, Vivienne, Blackwall, and even Sera. The first friends he had in centuries outside of his people. Even then, his people, those who knew him, had treated him differently, with respect for knowing him as the Toymaker or reverence for knowing him as Shartan. Only Theon never treated him differently for being Shartan.

Loneliness crashed down on Mahvir. The thought hearing Dorian's words become a reality now would destroy him. The mage would see it as a betrayal far worse than the one Solas had dealt to the world. For, it wouldn't come from just anyone from the inner circle, but from Mahvir. The other's reactions wouldn't be any better and would even be worse from Sera.

Mahvir's grip tightened around the crystal until he felt the sharp edges bit into the tender, scarred flesh of his hands. Eternal life was bad enough without aiding eternal rejection to the list as well.

"I will protect this world," Mahvir whispered. He drew in air through his noise, feeling the restriction his sorrow brought, before he exhaled through his mouth. "Solas must be stopped." The both of them didn't belong in this world.

Mahvir tucked away the crystal.

There were far more important matters to worry about than this. Mahvir settled himself back on the bed. The main concern right now was Solas and his activities within the ancient temples here in the Dales. One such place he was heading was the temple of Dirthamen. Yet, it was a journey Mahvir knew he couldn't make on his own. Sure he could enter the temple and get to the lower levels, but then he would be overwhelmed by the undead sentinels which dwelled there.

Well, Mahvir could get through it, but it would be far more painful. Besides, his people had a right to some of the history left behind in the ancient temple. Though it was unknown to most, Dirthamen was the only one among the creators who hadn't been a mage. Mahvir shoved these thoughts away. What he was or wasn't no longer mattered. It was in the past.

Mahvir rubbed his gloved hands together. Warmth spread through the tattered gloves into his hands. There was a biting cold settling over the world. Autumn was settling on the world and would soon be followed by a bitter winter.

"A year," Mahvir muttered under his breath. The images of the next year were faded in the back of his mind. Within the next three months' news of Shartan's revival would reach the members of the exalted council. There was no doubt, Leliana would have act upon this. It would take a year for the ambassadors to be summoned. Then it would take time for them to figure out how to get a message to him. "A year." Mahvir bowed his head. His tangled, black hair fell around his face.

He took a deep breath. So much to accomplish in a year. The people were fractured, splintering. His return as Shartan would only pull together the Dalish and a few of the alienage elves who didn't agree with Solas's methods. Still, Solas would have the vast majority of their people on his side. The two years since Solas had left the Inquisition had been spent recruiting and moving his plans into motion. Solas had an army now. Even if he couldn't enact his full plan, he could still crush those few who sided with Mahvir.

"Your thoughts sound as if you've already given to that fate," Deceit stated.

Mahvir gave a bitter chuckle. He stood and pulled his bag back over his shoulder. "Never, Deceit. I will fight until there is no longer a world to fight for." He lifted his staff. "For that is my fate. The only way to atone for what I've done."

The morning was cold. Mahvir stumbled from the _aravel_. A shiver raced through him.

Despite the light of pre-dawn, the clan was already awaking. Hawen stood at the fire he had the night before. He was dividing his hunters into groups, showing the senior hunter was among those to have left the clan. For a clan as small as Hawen's, the loss of five members was a major blow.

Mahvir's gaze slid over a few of the younger hunters. They were gathered together, talking in hushed voice. Mahvir forced his hearing towards them, listening to them through an echo in time.

"We should follow the First," the first one whispered. It was the boy from last night. "We're always on the run. The first was right, the Dread Wolf is going to recreate Elvhenan. We'll be free."

"Just imagine it," the girl from last night gushed, "us as the nobles and the _shem_ as slaves."

And, yet, such a future didn't exist. Solas's vision would destroy everything. Their people included. There was no future there. Only a few would survive, living in a dark world as everything they knew burned around them, seared by demons who had been forced upon the world. Their nature corrupted. There was nothing in the world Solas sought.

Mahvir moved passed the children. His movements soft despite his limp. His staff tapped against the cold ground as he passed the group of young hunters. This drew their attention to him.

"Hey." The male hunter from last night stood. "You're the _flat-ear_ from last night. What in Elgar'nan's name do you think you're still doing here?"

Mahvir didn't turned to the elf. Responding would only drive an already worsening situation down further.

"I'm talking to you." The hunter took hold of Mahvir's hood.

Mahvir forced his body limp. The hunter's move to jerk Mahvir back towards him proved less painful than if he had resisted.

"Your kind aren't welcome here." The hunter's eyes flashed. The _vallaslin_ of Elgar'nan wrinkled with a snarl. The look almost suited the wicked, spiny branches curled around his lips and under his eyes.

"We are of the same people," Mahvir stated in calm tones. "The only difference between us is in the fact I've never placed _vallaslin_ on myself."

"You dare degrade our traditions!"

Mahvir's neck jerked. He could feel the hunter's hot breath on his face. "Degrade? No. Point out the one difference between you and I, yes."

The hunter snarled. "You stink of _shem_ cities." He tossed Mahvir away from him.

Pain lanced through Mahvir's bad leg. A soft breath escaped him, his staff ground into the cold ground to keep him standing.

"Go back to where you belong _shem_ pet."

Mahvir chuckled. To him, it sounded like the child had called him a "quick" pet. It was still an insult, all be it an amusing one.

"What are you laughing at?"

Pain shot through Mahvir as the hunter snagged his staff. The wood struck him first in the gut then in the knee. The cold ground struck his back.

" _Da'len_!" Hawen's shout cut through the morning air. Rage filled the words.

Mahvir looked up at the hunter. He hesitated before lifting the staff. Air whistled around the wood. _Thwack_ – the sound of wood on wood filled the air.

Hawen had stepped between Mahvir and the hunter. His staff out. "You will not harm him!" Hawen's voice dripped with rage. "Or, Mythal have mercy upon you, I will flay you myself."

"K-Keeper." The hunter staggered back. "Creators, why are you protecting that _shem_ pet?"

"He's no one's pet," Hawen snapped. He took Mahvir's staff from the hunter. "He is Shartan." Hawen turned back to Mahvir and took his arm without another word.

With the keeper's help, Mahvir managed to get back to his feet. An ache pulsed through his leg, especially where the hunter had struck him. " _Ma serannas_ , Keeper Hawen, but you needn't have intervened." Though, Mahvir was happy the man had. Mahvir had enough bruises on him right now to last him for the next few days. It would have been far worse if the keeper hadn't stepped in.

"Keeper, how can he be Shartan?" the hunter demanded.

Hawen scowled. "I was presented indisputable evidence by him which confirms he's Shartan."

The hunter blinked and frowned. His gaze now locked on Mahvir.

Hawen handed the staff back to Mahvir. "I called the clan _hahren_ and healer to speak with you this morning as well, Shartan," his voice was kinder now that he was speaking to Mahvir instead of the hunter.

" _Ma serannas_ , Keeper." Mahvir looked at the hunter. " _Ir abelas, da'len_." He bowed his head to the small group. "I don't have a _vallaslin_ because I wish to move freely among all of my people." He gave the hunters a sad smile. He bowed his head then moved after Hawen. It was for the best to leave it there.

The _hahren_ was seated by the fire, her eyes locked on the dancing embers. Her face lined with age and eyes focused on a distance pain. It was a familiar look. Her mind on the pains of her clan and the troubles which faced the newer generation.

This meant the healer was the woman beside the _hahren_. Her _vallaslin_ was the complex version of Mythal's.

" _Aneth ara_ ," Mahvir greeted the two women seated at the fire.

The _hahren's_ eyes brightened. " _Andaran atish'an_ , Shartan." She stood and bowed low to Mahvir. "It's an honor to meet you, _hahren_."

Mahvir gave a nervous laugh. "Please, just Shartan is fine. You are the _hahren_ of the clan. Even if I am an elder, it still looks odd to passersby to say such a thing about someone who looks to be in his twenties." Though, in reality it was more because Mahvir had no desire to be called "elder."

The _hahren_ bowed her head. A soft smile on her face.

"Join us." The healer gestured to a free place close to the fire.

" _Ma serannas_." Mahvir bowed his head to the healer. He settled himself in the remaining space between the three of the clan. Mahvir stretched out his bad leg as a protest shot through it when he attempted to bend the leg.

The keeper had taken a seat by the _hahren_. Mahvir felt the healer's eyes on him. Her eyes were locked on his leg, a small frown on her face.

"You wanted to speak with me in the morning," Hawen started, "on the matter of what's happening among the People."

"I do." Mahvir looked at the small group. A large part of him missed the familiar faces of Deshanna, Theon, and Teren, another was happy to among his people once more. "You are aware of a Temple of Dirthamen not to far from here?"

Hawen frowned. "I sent a few hunters there after Inquisitor Lavellan had made it safe. He already passed on what he uncovered of our history within. What about it?"

"Fen'Harel has many of his agents there, searching for the way into the lower levels." Mahvir looked between them. "The upper level the Inquisitor found, was only the first step entering the temple proper."

"It was?" the healer asked.

"How do you know this?" the _hahran_ seemed a little confused. "I saw no signs of lower levels when I went there," she confessed.

"Nor would you. The stairs were well hidden and no doubt even better considering the temple is flooded."

"What is the Dread Wolf looking for?" Hawen returned to the main topic.

"As you're well aware, Dirthamen is our god of knowledge and secrets," Mahvir continued, "out of all of the eight, the answer on how to recreate Elvhenan is most likely within one of Dirthamen's temples. There is most likely an artifact within the temple which will prove useful to the Dread Wolf. This is what the Dread Wolf seeks."

"If there are lower levels, think on what we could recover about our past," the _hahren's_ eyes lit up. A smile on her face at the thought of all the knowledge they could find within the temple.

Hawen nodded. "I agree we should investigate this and try to get to the artifact and knowledge before the Fen'Harel does. But, how? You said his agents are already within the temple."

"I spent a few years exploring the temple," Mahvir started with a lie, "I know of passages which will get us into the lower levels with ease. I got as far as the main passage of the temple before I was swarmed by undead."

"I can go and bring three hunters with me. A small group will go unnoticed to Fen'Harel's forces."

"I will need to come as well," Mahvir stated. "Some of the tricks to get into those passages are complex and would take too long to try and explain."

The healer stiffened. "I mean no disrespect, _Hahren_ Shartan—" she cut off and took a deep breath. "While the keeper gathers those going with two of you, would you permit me to look at your leg and injuries?" she asked.

Mahvir hesitated. He was used to Teren's giving him strengthening positions and Deshanna's healing him. Still, he admitted his body ached after the beating it had just taken. "All right." Mahvir pulled himself to his feet with his staff. "Keeper Hawen, I'll join you and the chosen hunters shortly. It's best we head out as soon as possible."

"Agreed." The keeper turned to the clan _hahren_ and started to speak with her over how to run the clan while he was away.

Their group would only be gone from most of the day, returning near nightfall, but it was for the best Hawen did this. The clan would need guidance while Hawen was away.

The healer set a soft, slow pace through the camp and into the cave where most of the _aravels_ were parked. She stayed close to his side, eyes worried as she watched his limp.

"I am Egeril," the healer introduced herself. " _Ir abelas_ for not telling you sooner." She bowed her head to him.

"It's fine." Mahvir gave her a soft smile.

The healer's _aravel_ was placed where it was one of the most protected _aravels_ in the event of bandit attacks. Egeril moved up the few steps and entered the _aravel_ before Mahvir. She turned and, as with Hawen, aided him in getting into the _aravel_.

Warmth washed over Mahvir as he entered the space. The tightness of his lungs eased from the warmth. There was a small space at the front of the _aravel_ devoted to where a healer and one other could sit. This space was always used to treat minor injuries.

Mahvir placed his staff by the door and limped over to the cloth parting this section of the _aravel_ from the next. The next room was small with only two sections for beds instead of the four Mahvir was used to in clan Lavellan. Granted, Hawen's clan was half the size of Lavellan, despite both being small.

"Wait here." Egeril gestured for him to take a seat on one of the beds. She hurried into the last room of the _aravel_.

Mahvir settled himself on one of the beds.

" _This is silly_ ," Deceit muttered in his mind. " _You shouldn't waste time with a healer. Just get those hunters and get going_."

Egeril returned a few moments later. She carried a few poultices, salves, and potions. She set them on the small shelf beside the bed. "Remove your shirt," she instructed him even as she sorted through the salves she had brought out.

Heat started to creep over Mahvir's ears. He took a deep breath and forced back his embarrassment. He started to unravel the clothing he wore, stripping the layers. The last layer was no longer the clothing he had worn in Skyhold. Instead he wore a thin, tattered shirt. He removed this as well and folded it on top of the robes and scarves he had removed. He took a deep breath, feeling the unburned flesh prickle with the sudden chill even in this warm space.

Egeril turned to him. Her eyes widened a little as her gaze hovered over the burn which covered his left side. Another scar could be seen cutting down from his right shoulder and vanishing into the burn scar. His stomach and other places where the hunter had struck were red with welts which would turn to bruises. Mahvir also knew he had lost weight over the course of the week since leaving Skyhold.

She cleared her throat and pulled off the lid of one of the salves. "I've seen a few burns," she started as she spread the salve over his left shoulder. It was cool and eased back the constant pain. "But nothing like this. You really were burned alive," she whispered.

Mahvir looked away from the healer. His ears warm.

"Now, I know fires can have a negative effect on breathing." Egeril had pulled away from him. "My mentor had several cases in the clan, one of which died from it. I take it with the extent of damage here, you would have this as well."

"I have a few herbs I use which ease the airways," Mahvir explained. He pulled out one of the long herbs.

The healer took it and examined the plant. She nodded. Then sighed. "Turn."

Mahvir obeyed even knowing how she would react to the scarring on his back.

A sharp gasp escaped her. It wasn't the sight of the burn on his back or the countless wipe marks from his time as a slave. Her cool fingers touched his right shoulder. "I was told stories about this mark," she whispered.

Mahvir touched his shoulder. He could feel the scar even through the burn on his hand. He had once tried to remove the mark by tearing at it with his nails. Eventually he had given up. It was another scar, another reminder. He would keep it and carry the brand of an ancient imperium slave for all eternity.

"I never thought I'd see this mark," fear and pain leaked into the healer's voice. " _Ir abelas, hahren_." Her hand fell away from the brand. He felt the cooling salve going over the burn scar on his back. "I shouldn't have been so insensitive."

"It's fine. I've grown rather used to it when people seen the brand."

Several moments passed in silence as the healer worked. Mahvir was content to stare at the wall of the _aravel_. It helped to take his mind off someone seeing him half naked.

"Now, for your leg, _Hahren_ Shartan."

Mahvir took a deep breath. He shifted so she could look at his leg. He also replaced his shirt at the very least. He relaxed a little now he was sitting before someone half naked. Egeril helped him pull up the pant leg just passed his knee. A small amount of blood could be seen where the strike to his knee had had broken flesh.

The healer scowled. "I need to have a word with those _lenen_ ," she muttered and pulled out a healing poultice. She cleaned the cut and started to dress it.

"It's fine, healer," Mahvir told her. "You needn't make the situation worse by speaking with them. If anything, we should focus on attempting to get them to stay within the clan rather than angering them further towards leaving the clan."

Egeril huffed. "It was still no cause for them to beat you, especially you, just because you're not Dalish."

"I believe Clan Lavellan would argue over that point." Mahvir chuckled at the thought on how Deshanna would be react to someone saying he wasn't Dalish.

"You're friends with the Inquisitor's clan?" Egeril asked.

"Yes," was all Mahvir said in reply.

Her eyes softened as she looked at the extent of the burn coating his leg. Her touch was soft as she finished dressing the wound. "How did you survive?" she whispered more to herself than to Mahvir.

Mahvir couldn't look at the healer. The images of what had happened that day were still clear in his mind from the other night. How he had escaped and managed to live wasn't a matter he wished to discuss. It was clear while she was curious Egeril didn't expect and answer from him. Instead she was just content to let the question hang.

"I'm not going to place the salve close to the wound," she spoke in louder tones meant for him. There was another pause. Her voice softened as she spoke next, "Please, take it easy while you're with the keeper and hunters in the temple. If you weren't needed," she took a deep breath, "I would have advised the keeper to leave you here. You're in no condition to be fighting. Or exploring ancient ruins."

"I know."

"Then why go?" the healer demanded.

"I need to." Mahvir rolled down his pant leg when she finished. " _Ma serannas_ , healer." He bowed his head.

"Eat before you leave."

"I will." Mahvir started to redress.

The healer aided him out of the _aravel_. She didn't follow to make certain he would eat. Instead returned inside of her _aravel_ to prepare for any injuries this expedition might see come to pass.

Mahvir took a deep breath. It was time to start down the path to stop Solas.

* * *

Elvish:

 _na'din_ – kill you

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** You know, that burn scarring he has really is crippling especially when coupled with a frail body and the bad lungs from the fire. Mahvy really isn't in good condition physically.

So, for people who don't follow Dalish lore, the clan _hahren_ is like a teacher and keeper history (much like the keeper also keeps the history). The difference is the _hahren_ teaches the history to the children of the clan while the keeper is a mentor to the whole of the clan as well as the leader of the clan. Some clans have healers who is normally the third mage in the clan or in some cases a normal elven, others rely on their keeper for healing. There are more professions broken up in the clan such as the halla keeper and the crafts master, hunters, and warriors.

The references to the _hahren_ are few and far between because most of the time, in game and even in the books, the focus is on the keeper or the hunters and not on the actual structure of the clans. **)**


	5. Flooded Temple

**Unedited! Will be edited later.**

 **Special thanks to Yasangigirl for the first review. And thank you to auburnimp for the second review! You two are amazing.**

 **Reviews are greatly loved.**

* * *

Hawen stood at the edge of camp with the chosen hunters. He had picked one of the hunters who had attacked Mahvir; yet, this wasn't a great shock. Just taking three would be draining on the clan and cut down on the number who could hunt today. Not all of them were hunters. The fourth member of the small group was a warrior who defended the clan.

"Ready?" the keeper asked. He gave Mahvir a soft smile.

"When you are, Keeper." Mahvir bowed his head.

The group mounted the few harts the clan had. The keeper held out his hand to Mahvir. Mahvir took it and joined the Keeper on his hart. The hart let out a soft snort when Deceit landed on its horn.

"A white raven?" Hawen frowned at the bird.

" _Ir abelas_ , Keeper, the raven is a friend of sorts. As far as ravens go, she forgets her manors."

Deceit snapped her beak, blue eyes flashing with rage. " _That's not funny, Dirthy_." Her feathers raised and she turned away from Mahvir and Hawen.

"I see." The Keeper nodded before he signaled for the group to be off.

He set a fast pace. The harts raced over the plans towards the distant forest. The temple was situated between the Dirth and the emerald graves. At the pace the keeper set, it wasn't long before they were coming up on the temple proper.

Hawen raised his hand in a signal to the others. Mahvir had seen it as well. Movement high in the trees beyond. One of Fen'Harel's group had gotten to a good vantage point. There was no going in through the entrance Mahvir had used when with the Inquisition.

Their group moved into the brush where they could hide from prying eyes.

Hawen dismounted. "Kalyca, scout around, see if there is any way we can enter the temple. Make certain you remain undetected," Hawen instructed the older of the two hunters.

She nodded and vanished into the shadows of the forest.

Mahvir followed the keeper and staggered a little on the dismount. "There is another way to enter the temple, Keeper. I hadn't planned on going through the main entrance."

Hawen frowned. He nodded. "We'll wait on Kalyca." He turned to Mahvir. "Tell me more about the way you're planning on getting around Fen'Harel's people."

A fallen tree was close by. Mahvir settled himself there. "There are many secret passages strewed throughout the temple," he started. "Each has a puzzle or piece of knowledge associated with it. It took me years to figure out where most were as well as the key to unlock two of them. Unfortunately, the two we are going to be taking will only circumvent the main entrance and main passage to the lower levels."

It was only the partial truth. There was a third passage which would lead them right into the chambers where the People would either be greeted by him or one of the sentinels. Still, a few of the sentinels weren't dead and were guarding the main section of the temple after the trials to prove loyalty to Dirthamen. It was for the best not to anger them even if he was Dirthamen.

Hawen nodded. "I take it these puzzles are complex?"

"One is writing in our language and the other is complex to say the least." Mahvir bowed his head. "Then, generally, from what Deshanna learned from the Inquisitor, there are trials set up to honor the creator in question. It is best for the both of us to be here, Keeper. Our combined knowledge will hopefully see us through the trials without disrespecting whatever ancient elvhen we may find beyond."

"You're saying some might still be there?" the warrior asked, his gaze intense with interest.

"Inquisitor Lavellan reported encountering Mythal's sentinels when he went into the Temple of Mythal," Mahvir explained. "If any of Dirthamen's remain, they will have sealed themselves into the very heart of the temple to survive the flood."

Hawen let out a small breath. "I am uncertain if I am excited at the prospect of meeting our ancient brethren." He paused, eyes narrowed in thought. "Is there a chance they would side with Fen'Harel?"

A small smile twitched at Mahvir's lips. "I find it unlikely, Keeper Hawen. Our history does say there was rift between Fen'Harel and the other creators. Sentinels, from what I've gathered, are very devote to the creator they serve. If Dirthamen didn't get along with Fen'Harel or support him near the end of Elvhenan, then there is nothing to fear from them joining with the Dread Wolf. All we need to worry about is a chilly greeting or them looking down on us for not being from their time."

A small breath escaped Hawen. The keeper nodded and turned his attention to their surroundings.

The scents of the forest were clear and sharp. Sun light danced across the ground from the slightest whim of the breeze. The only sound came from the song of birds and shifting of leaves pushed by the breeze.

Then, the softness of footsteps against the ground. Mahvir straightened just as Kalyca appeared.

"They have the entrance covered," she informed them.

Mahvir pulled himself to his feet. "Then we have a little walk ahead of us." He led them deeper into the forest.

"Are you certain about this?" the younger huntress asked. "That there's another entrance?" Her gaze lingered on his back.

" _I don't like that girl, and that's me actually being honest. Damn girl will make me into a spirit instead_." Deceit glared at the girl from her perch atop Mahvir's staff.

" _Yes, because honesty is your opposite,_ " Mahvir teased the demon. She was one of the most honest demons of deceit he knew of. Sometimes. "There is another passage into the temple. It is just well hidden."

Mahvir stopped before an ancient tree.

"This isn't even close to the temple though," the young huntress pointed out. Her lips curled. "Are you messing with us?"

" _Da'len_ ," the keeper scolded.

Mahvir gave them both a small smile. "I assure you, this is correct." He turned to the roots. There was as small gape between two of the massive roots. He slipped between it. A jolt shot through his bad leg. He let out a low breath. He landed in a tunnel. Dampness clung to the dirt walls.

He stepped aside moments before Hawen slipped through. The keeper straightened and took out his staff. A soft glow illuminated the space.

The warrior and two hunters followed. "What is this place?" Kalyca asked.

"It will lead us to an entrance into the temple," Mahvir started. He moved down the narrow passage. The passage gradually slopped downward. The air still held a dampness to it even as the walls turned from dirt to stone.

The passage ended in a dead end, or so it would seem the others.

"What?" the younger hunter growled. "This is a dead end. Are you trying to waste our time?"

Mahvir ignored her. His traced his fingers over the stone. The marks his fingers made were words in elvish, spelling "Dirth." "That should do it." He stepped back. A soft light flashed where his fingers had traced. It vanished moments later.

A grinding filled the air. The stone started to slide aside. Water rushed out and filled the passage so it just covered his boots. At least this part of the temple hadn't been too badly flooded.

Mahvir moved into the temple proper. The passage exited into the slave quarters. A shiver raced through. Slaves were the matter which had never sat right with him. He had done his best to treat the slaves working within the temples well, but his followers didn't always do so. If he hadn't had slaves it would have drawn the ire of the other seven. Even Mythal had slaves in order to avoid the brunt of Elgar'nan's ire.

The temple looked just as Mahvir had last seen it, dreary. Water covered the stone walls in the thick coating of slim. It sloshed around his feet as he moved further into the temple. Plant growth covered the once barren walls.

There was no sign of Fen'Harel's people within the slave quarters. Though, this didn't come as a real shock. Most would have been in the central chamber. They had, after all, uncovered the stairs into the lower level, the passage which would lead into the main temple.

"This way." Mahvir gestured for the group to follow him. He moved through the chambers and out into another aspect of it. He managed to clamber over a fallen tree which had been easier to jump when he and Deceit had been fused as the Inquisitor. A blank wall lay ahead of him.

"This is another dead end," the younger huntress pointed out. She peered into the room to their right. "As is the room next to us."

"The last 'dead end' got us into the temple," the warrior pointed out. "I believe Shartan knows where he's leading us."

Mahvir knelt. Tension was starting to grow in his lungs. The tightness would only worsen the deeper into the temple they went. He pressed one of the stone bricks. It slid a little into the wall. The start of a complex puzzle.

"That should do it." Mahvir managed an even tone as he stood. His breath rasped a little from the strain. Dampness was never good for his poor breathing.

He tapped the last stone the end of his staff.

A soft grinding filled the air. The stone pulled back. It slid to one side, revealing a dark passage. Mahvir bowed a little and gestured for the others to enter first.

They moved passed Mahvir and into the passage. Hawen was the only one to pause until Mahvir moved. The two of them crossed into the side passage together.

Mahvir tapped another stone to one side of the passage.

Gears ground as the wall started to close behind them. A soft _thud_ filled the air.

He winced. The sound would have resonated through the temple. "We must keep moving," he advised the others. "I doubt the sound went unnoticed."

"Agreed." A soft light filled the passage from the tip of Hawen's staff. His eyes glittered in the light before moving to inspect the passage. A small breath escaped the keeper.

Gold lined the passage in the form of the patrens all temps shared. While there had been a merial in the upper chambers to Falon'Din, this one just held gold. The lower parts were devoted completely to Dirthamen. There was more wealth in this passage than all the clans had put together.

Grim and muck clung to the gold, staining it green in several locations.

Mahvir started forward. Hawen at his side for the light on the tip of his staff.

"We should have brought torches," the young huntress complained.

"The temple is flooded lower down," Mahvir informed her. "Torches won't do us much good."

The damp air pulled at Mahvir's lungs. Time magic, if one could really call it that, flowed through his lungs, slowing the effects. It would help, but it wouldn't stop the difficulties breathing, the further down they traveled.

The passage sloped downward turning to set of square spiral stairs. Their pace was slow as Hawen matched Marvir's slow movements. The keeper kept one eye on him.

"Ugh, we would be down by now," the young huntress muttered.

"Quiet," the Kalyca snapped.

Mahvir's fingers ran along the side of the passage to help as he moved to the next step. "Go ahead," he managed to rasp out the wards to the young huntress.

Hawen nodded to her. "You two should scout and see if any dangers lay ahead."

"Of course, keeper," Kalyca nodded. She raced ahead. The younger huntress hard on her heals. It left Hawen alone with Mahvir and the warrior.

Hawen didn't speak though it was clear he wanted nothing more than to help Mahvir down the steps.

It wasn't long until the three of them joined the two huntresses at the bottom. Water rushed around their ankles showing some of the flood from the last time Mahvir had been down here. This passage had been dry the first time, but when he had opened it some of the water had rushed in along with the undead. There was nothing but bone left from that encounter.

The passage was a "dead end" as the younger one had kept pointing out. She stood still now though, listening. The pause bought him time to pull out one of his herbs and breath it in. The tension in lungs eased. He would need his breath for the next leg of the journey.

"Do you hear that?" she breathed.

A small sound could be hear through the blocked passage. The small trickle of water was broken by the shifting of stone.

"It appears the main passage caved," Mahvir voiced. "It should buy us an hour or two if we're lucky."

"Would the dread wolf send more the clear the passage faster?" the young huntress asked, her eyes glittered in the light from Hawen's staff.

"You underestimate the patients of an ancient elvhen." Mahvir moved through the grimy water towards the sound. It marked the wall which would open into the main temple proper. "Keep in mind, Fen'Harel won't be informed of another group until later."

"They would have sent someone to investigate the noise of the passage," the warrior pointed out.

"True." Mahvir hit a stone with his staff. There was no puzzle on this side of the passage. He stepped back. "Either way, the only company we'll have is the undead for a time."

"A lovely thought," muttered the young huntress.

Stone ground as it moved back towards him. The sound was muffled now thanks to the flood. Water rushed into the passage. It whipped around their legs and swirled up just passaged knees.

The volume had increased in the last few years and thanks to the main passage being unlocked.

Mahvir wadded into the mage passage. He pushed the bone and muck aside with his staff.

Deceit snapped her beak at the movement. She took to the air, struggling to gain height in the still air of the damp temple.

" _Scout ahead_ ," Mahvir instructed her. " _See how many of the undead will greet us_."

Her only reply was a soft snap of her beak before she vanished into the darkness.

Movement.

Mahvir drew his ironbark dagger. The blade flashed. It sliced through rotten flesh. Ichor gushed from the neck of an undead.

Flames raced passaged Mahvir and struck the undead figure. A soft shriek filled the air, muffled by water, as the creature stumbled. It fell back into the flooded water.

Hawen rushed to Mahvir's side, staff at the ready. Flames flickered in his free hand.

"We should move forward in a formation," Mahvir stated. "Warrior at point, then Hawen and myself and hunters in the back to guard the both the rear and the front with range."

"Agreed." Hawen nodded to his clan members.

The warrior took point.

Kalyca moved in behind Mahvir and Hawen while the younger girl moved backwards through the water to keep an eye on their rear.

They started to move.

Undead leapt from the shadows or from the depths of the murky water.

The warrior lunged. Her shield slammed into those before her.

Mahvir pivoted on his good leg. His dagger a blur as he slashed at those which came towards him. He balanced entirely on his good leg.

He staff trailed water.

 _Thwack_! The sound of wood against flesh filled the air as he slammed the staff down on another of the undead.

Flames engulfed the undead before Mahvir. Lightening followed on the other side.

Hawen tossed his magic to both sides.

"How many of these bloody things are there?" screamed the young huntress.

"About a hundred, I would assume," Mahvir managed a soft reply.

"Keep pushing forward," Hawen ordered the warrior.

She gave a might cry and shoved the undead back. Her blade slashed them other as they staggered away. She leapt forward through the water and drove her sword into the next before whirling around and slamming her shield into another.

Mahvir forced himself forward. He struggled against the deepening water, lungs tightening as he tried to fight and move. He gasped, forcing air through his closing airways. His blade struck another undead.

The water was passed was almost to their chest when the undead started to back away. The air hummed with a forgotten magic.

Hawen let out a breath. "There's a barrier here. An old one." He glanced at Mahvir. "I doubt there are more undead here."

Mahvir nodded. He focused at his breathing, taking slow deep breaths.

The warrior moved so she was watching behind them for the undead.

Deceit returned and landed on Mahvir's staff. " _There is a small space without water ahead_ ," she informed him. " _I could only just flap my wings to make it through_. _Beyond lies the passage into the trials and it's closed. More wards round it. They will know we're here the moment the doors open_."

"We going to have to swim a ways," Mahvir gasped out. He turned and started to wade deeper into the temple.

Any reply the keeper had was drawn the moment Mahvir had started to move.

" _You're going to have to fly, Deceit, I need my staff._ "

Deceit snapped her beak. She took to the air and vanished into the shadows beyond the light of Hawen's staff.

Mahvir felt the water deepen when he found a small set of steps. There was narrow passage just wide enough for a raven's wing span but nothing else.

"Should I go first to check it out?" the huntress asked.

"Go," Hawen told her. His gaze then rested on Mahvir.

The girl jumped into the water. She swam with her head up she got through to the other side and called back. "It's safe," her voice was distant. The water is gets shallower on this side."

" _Ma serannas, da'len_!" Hawen called to her. He turned to Mahvir and Kalyca. "We will have two swim on either side of you," the keeper informed him.

Mahvir glanced at the passage. He wanted to protest and say he could manage, but it was a long swim to the other side.

"Kalyca stay at Shartan's side," Hawen instructed. "I will be just head. We have to go single file."

"All right, Keeper." Kalyca moved to Mahvir's side.

Hawen wadded into the deeper water. "Follow close." His staff was on his back now, giving off enough light they could just see some what lay under the water. A statue could just be seen, broken and with plant life clinging to it.

Mahvir followed behind Hawen he pushed himself off the steps and into the water. His lungs strained with the first struggle push through the water. Heat shot through his bad leg and arm. They moved too slow to help. His head dunked below the water then up with a thrust from his good arm and kick of his right leg.

He coughed up the foul water.

" _Hahren_." Kalyca swam to him with ease. She took his left arm and supported him. She thrust them forward with her legs and free arm.

The speed sent Mahvir under again as he arm and leg couldn't keep up with the thrust. He rose, coughing. "Slower," he gasped.

" _Ir abelas_." She pushed them forward again. This time he managed to help keep them both afloat.

Their progress was painfully slow. When they were only half way when Mahvir felt his lung close. He gasped, fighting for air.

Water rushed up over his head as his body grew heavy and struggles weakened.

"Keeper!" the shout was muffled by the water flooding Mahvir's ears.

The huntress dove after him. He was aware of her grabbing him; then another. Air exploded around him. Something slammed into his legs. He was aware of stone and water pulling at his clothes.

"Breath, Shartan."

Pressure pressed again against his chest.

The light of healing magic filled the air.

Water erupted from Mahvir's lips. He gasped, pushing air through his thin airways. His fingers fumbled over the lip of his bag. He pulled out herb and managed to get it to his lips. He breathed it in.

A cough escaped him as air slammed into his lungs. He straightened. " _Ir abelas_ ," he rasped.

The soft clink of water logged armor filled the air.

Mahvir looked up to see the warrior had made it through as well.

He took a deep breath and glanced around. He was seated with his legs still into the water. They had made it to high enough point no water was ahead where grand doors lead into the trials of Dirthamen.

" _Ma serannas_ for saving me," he bowed his head to the keeper and huntress.

The keeper let out a low breath. "Hopefully leaving won't be as hard."

It wouldn't be.

Mahvir lifted his staff and used it to start to stand. His entire body shook with the effort. So much for being useful.

"Easy." Hawen helped him up.

"We're almost to the trials," Mahvir rasped. He nodded to the door. His arms felt as led. Hawen supported him.

" _Ma serannas_ ," breathed Kalyca. "We're almost there."

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** I am really sorry for the long gape.

So, I was a co-writer for _Blood of the People_. I helped write parts of what happened in the temple as a result (the trials and secret passages given Mahvy was one of my characters). The point being, yes, for those of you who have read that story, there are some similarities. However, there are still many differences as well. No female Inquisitor romance with Solas for one, for another the temple really needed to be more flooded. Mahvy was my Inquisitor and Nimwen, Herenya's. Herenya (though it's not been updated in awhile) has a very beautiful solo fan-fiction as well.

Also, I started work on a redo of _Final Hour_ which will eventually get posted where I redesigned the main temple especially Dirthamen's private chambers. The story one, won't be called _Final Hour_ and two will focus more on Dirthy and what's going on with the other creators. It will still have a lot with what's going on with Solas, but _Final Hour_ bugged me with how innocent and even ignorant I made Dirthy. He's about 6000 there. Yeah, not really an age for ignorance. So, just as a reference, Dirthy/ Mahvir in this story is well over 8000 years old.

Given _Vallaslin_ are slave markings, Mythal would have had slaves. **)**


	6. Trials of Dirthamen

Pain pulsed through Mahvir with each limping step he took. Hawen and Kalyca flanked him while the warrior had moved ahead with other huntress to check around the doors.

"Do you need to rest, _hahren_?" Kalyca asked with a quick glance towards Hawen.

Hawen nodded to show he was also concerned with Mahvir's slowed pace.

"It's been almost an hour since we got down here," Mahvir rasped, the words pulled at his throat. There was no time to rest. They needed to enter the centurial chambers before the last of the ruble was cleared.

He tried to move faster but only slowed as his lungs started to close once more. _Fenedhis_! If he was healthier this would have been so much easier. The others wouldn't be held up because of him.

Useless.

He was being utterly useless.

The young huntress snorted. "Outside of the secret passages, why is he here, Keeper?"

"Acacia," the keeper called the young girl to order. His eyes flashed in the light of staff. "There is time to spare, _hahren_." Hawen stopped in the passage. They hadn't made it far. "You should rest."

Mahvir hesitated then consisted. "A short break then." He limped to the side of the passage and leaned again the wall. Exhaustion collapsed down upon his shoulders. " _Deceit, see if there are wards around the door. We're being watched_." He had felt eyes on them from the shadows since they had exited the water.

" _Slave driver_." The soft, almost strained wing beats followed the words. Deceit's white feathers flashed in the darkness before she vanished down the passage.

Acacia paced while Hawen joined Mahvir at the wall. The keeper looked as exhausted as Mahvir felt. This trip had been far from easy on him and Mahvir wasn't making it any easier by coming with them.

"Acacia, if you must expend energy, scout ahead after Shartan's raven." Hawen's gaze locked on the young huntress.

She huffed. "Fine." She raced off down the passage.

"Walk!" Kalyca shouted after her.

The sound of racing footsteps echoed back to them. It was enough to show Acacia hadn't listened to the older woman.

The warrior grunted. " _Lenen_ never listen," she muttered.

"True," Hawen chuckled. "You've had your hands full with the _lenen_ under you as of late, Nitsa."

She laughed. "I do believe all of us have been, keeper, what with Fen'Harel returning and promising glory and riches to sway the young ears of the clan."

"The young are often swayed by pretty words woven together," Mahvir stated. "Everyone, no matter the age, however, wishes for a better life than the hand dealt them in life. The promise of our ancient empire is enough to have moved many to his side."

Hawen bowed his head. "None should heed the word of the trickster wolf."

Mahvir straightened. His breathing had started to ease and his leg was only growing stiff. "It's best we keep moving." He started forward, managing a quicker pace than before.

They had made it part way down the hall when Acacia raced back towards them. "Keeper, there are set of doors at the end of the passage. The raven is waiting there, but the doors are sealed. I couldn't see anyway to open them."

Hawen glanced at Mahvir. "Lead the way, _da'len_ ," he gestured towards Acacia.

She started down the passage once more. Her pace quick yet not so fast she was out of sight of the light on Hawen's staff.

" _Dirthy, the sentinels sealed the doors from the other side_ ," Deceit informed him. " _The only gape is the one meant for myself and the oaf_."

Their group came to the doors.

Hawen let out a breath. He stepped up to the massive doors. Designs laced the door in a far simpler display than those Mahvir had seen in the temple of Mythal. Granted, Mythal's tastes were very different from his own.

"To see pieces from Arlathan intact like this is a rare sight," the keeper breathed. "I wish the others were here to see this." He reached from the door. His fingers never made it to the door, stopped short by a magical barrier. He frowned and lowered his hand. "There is a barrier around the doors." He glanced at Mahvir.

"There were a few similar barriers within the temple of Mythal from what Deshanna has told me." He glanced around. There would be no way to unlock the doors from this side. There never had been.

The only way to gain access from this side was to have the favor of the sentinels or of himself.

He took a step back. "There." His gaze locked on the small hallow above the door. It was flanked by two ravens caved from the stone around it. "My raven might be able to fit through there and open the doors from the other side."

Deceit snapped her beak. " _Might,_ _ **might**_!" her eyes blazed, feathers fluffing.

"She's just a bird," Acacia scoffed.

"Ravens were said to be Dirthamen's," Nitsa pointed out.

"True," Kalyca nodded. "Perhaps its meant to be opened by a raven to show favor to Dirthamen."

"She's a dumb bird!" Acacia protested.

" _Dumb_!" Deceit launched off her perch towards the girl. Her talons extended.

"Stop!" Mahvir snapped at the demon.

Deceit veered.

Acacia shouted in shock when one wing brushed her.

" _That girl_ …" Deceit landed on Mahvir's staff.

"Open the door," Mahvir ordered Deceit aloud so all could hear him.

Deceit glared at him. " _Fine, but you owe me one Vair-Vair books_." She leapt into the air. " _Especially after putting up with that brat._ " She tucked her wings and dove through the passage. " _Gross, it's not been cleaned in centuries. SPIDER_!" A loud alarmed caw echoed from the passage.

" _Keep going or no book_."

" _Ew, ew, ew_!" The sounds of her rustling and complaining caws soon faded to an echo. " _Finally_ ," her voice echoed to Mahvir.

A soft click sounded. The barrier flickered out. A creak came from the doors as they opened.

Nitsa took the lead, hand on her sword hilt.

Mahvir and Hawen moved after her with Acacia and Kalyca bringing up the back.

The light fell out a raven statue situated behind the door. Deceit was perched there preening her feathers. She shook herself and shot a glare at Mahvir before she returned to her grooming.

Once Kalyca was through, Deceit took off from her perch and moved higher to continue to groom. The barrier returned to the doors as they closed behind them. A dull _thump_ filled the air. The dust rose around their feet in a soft cloud.

Mahvir coughed, feeling the heaviness in the dusty room.

Acacia jumped a little and looked behind her. "Will the dread wolf be able to get through that?"

"He will find away," Mahvir answered. "I doubt he cares much for preserving this temple." Unlike how he had wanted them to honor Mythal. Not that Mahvir would have skipped the trials. The sentinels made for far greater allies than adversaries.

A soft blue glow appeared to one side of the room. Mahvir turned. Sure enough a figure now stood upon a dais.

"Is that a demon?" breathed Acacia. She shivered. "What's it doing?" her hand moved to her bow, ready to fight.

"It's neither a spirit nor a demon," Mahvir informed her. "It's something close, bound to this place for the purpose of the first trial of Dirthamen. Or so I would assume."

Hawen stepped up onto the dais behind Nitsa. Mahvir used his staff to boost himself up. The two huntresses were the last to follow.

The moment they were up, it spoke, " _Welcome_."

Hawen glanced at the others. It was speaking elvish.

"Welcome," it repeated in common, "have you come to pay respect to Dirthamen?"

"Yes," Hawen answered. He moved to the front of the group. In the light of the spirit like being, he appeared almost as a child, awed at the sight before him.

"A test of your knowledge is required to proceed. Answer three questions correctly and you may enter the next chamber."

Hawen glanced at Mahvir.

Mahvir stepped to up to join the keeper. It was unlikely the keeper could get the first question right. No matter which of the random ones were drawn.

"At the dawn of Elvhenan it was June who built the eluvian, but who was it who originally broke through with the theory and abilities of the eluvian, designed them and passed the designs on to June to build?"

Hawen blinked several times. He opened his mouth and closed it before looking at Mahvir.

It was rare to have a question related to Dirthamen during these trails. Mahvir could have laughed at the irony of it, but kept the laughter on the inside.

"Out of the nine," Mahvir muttered then louder said, pretending he didn't already know the answer, "Dirthamen?"

"Correct. Dirthamen was well known for magical theory."

Hawen let out a small breath.

"Second question: after the fall of the Forgotten Ones which of the nine started the construction of Arlathan?"

"June," Hawen answered without hesitation. He glanced at Mahvir. "Right?"

"I believe so."

"Correct. June wanted to build a place where the people would be safe and forget the war. He designed and built Arlathan with little aid from the others."

"This is fascinating," Hawen smiled.

"Final question: the great empire of Elvhenan was destroyed by whom?"

"The imperium," Hawen answered.

"Hmm," Mahvir frowned. "That's a trick question. It was destroyed twice."

Hawen frowned and looked at him. "It was?"

"The Imperium destroyed the ruminates of Elvhenan after the creators were sealed, but the empire was barely getting back together by then. Fen'Harel destroyed it the first time during the war between himself and the other creators. Thus, there are two answers to this question." He looked at the spirit. "Which are you meaning?"

The spirit didn't answer except to say, "Correct. Fen'Harel destroyed the world when he created the veil to seal away the others. The imperium destroyed the rebuilt city of Arlathan and the remaining empire centuries later." It bowed to them. "The way is clear."

The doors opened to permit them heading to the next chamber.

"Our people destroyed ourselves?" Hawen asked as they moved passed the spirit towards the door.

"There were stories passed down about the wars between the creators," Mahvir stated. "To seal the others away, Fen'Harel would have to have destroyed the world to do so. It is most likely why his recreating of Elvhenan will destroy this current world and everyone in it."

Hawen nodded, frowning. "The answer was right, so it must be what happened."

"Fen'Harel destroyed Elvhenan?" Acacia breathed the question. "But if that's true; then why would he want to recreate it?"

"Guilt and shame are powerful motivators," Mahvir replied. "It can make one do something foolish in the vainest hopes it will undo the original mistake. But the past cannot be rewritten or undone. The desire to do so, is the desire to forget all the People had suffered, accomplished, and lost.

"There is only moving forward, only seeking a tomorrow where the people can be free. Not the past and not the world of the past."

Acacia bowed her head, pace slowing.

Hawen glanced at the girl.

They moved into the next chamber. It was the second of three.

This one was trial to show what the devout valued most. A stone slab dominated the center of the dreary space and two pedestals were placed on either side of the next door.

Hawen moved up to the stone, Mahvir limped up beside him. "There are six here," Hawen muttered. His hand fell over the book which rested there. He lifted it. The cover cracked as he opened it.

"It's empty!"

" _Of course it is_ ," Deceit mocked. She had followed them through a passage in the wall meant for the ravens to pass through without trouble.

"Keeper!" Nitsa called from the door into the next trial.

Hawen moved to her side and leaned over the pedestal. "In this hand rests the secret," he seemed to struggle with reading what was written there, though Mahvir couldn't blame him.

Mahvir limped over to the one on the other side of door. "In this hand rests the value," he read. He moved back to the slab and dusted off the writing over the objects. "Find which rests in hands of the keeper of secrets. Where does one place value? What secrets can be held?"

Hawen moved back to the slab.

"That makes no sense." Acacia scowled

"It does," Hawen answered, eyes bright. "Remember your teachings, _da'len_?"

Acacia looked at the table. "But…" She lifted a small object and cleaned if off. A small gasp escaped her. "It's gold!"

Hawen took it from her and replaced it on the table. "And not the answer to this trial. Perhaps one to Falon'Din, but not Dirthamen. Remember, _da'len_ , Dithamen is not only the keeper of secrets, but was said to have taught us value in family."

"'In this hand rests the secret,'" Nitsa quoted. "Could it be the empty book?"

Mahvir moved to another of the items there. He lifted it. It was a flat, plan piece of ironbark. A small carving was placed into the wood."

"That's ironbark," Kalyca stated. "Is that elvish on it?"

Hawen moved to look at what Mahvir held. He took it in his hand. "I feel as if the veil is very thin, but only just around this piece of iron bark."

It was a fade rune, a matter only Dirthamen and his followers had knowledge of. "In this hand rests the secret," Mahvir pressed. "I doubt a blank book is much of a secret. Unless it was written in invisible ink."

Hawen turned the wood in his hand. "I agree, but this seems a little strange."

"It doesn't need to make sense," Mahvir told the keeper.

"What about these?" Acacia had picked up a rune stone.

"It's a fire rune," Mahvir stated. "Dirthamen isn't really known for being the god of fire."

"And this?" She lifted the jeweled necklace.

"Again, wealth and greed," Mahvir pointed out. "The same as with the gold. Leave it."

She huffed. "We could buy months' worth of food and clothes with it though."

"Only if you want to be trapped in here forever, _da'len_." Mahvir gave her a stern look.

"Fine." She set down the two items. "But the last item is just a carving of a child."

"'In this hand rests the value.'" Nitsa frowned. "Children are rare for our people, and highly valued, but he was the one to teach family."

"And family isn't always blood," Mahvir reminded her.

Hawen nodded. He lifted the statue. "I trust your judgement. He set the piece of ironbark on pedestal and the statue on the other.

A soft glow came from both before the doors opened.

" _Finally_ ," Deceit huffed and flew through the door into the next chamber.

They followed after the raven. The final trial was a literal puzzle. It was already broken into many tiny pieces on the stone table.

"Put back together and you will have earned the favor of Dirthamen," Hawen read the writing over the table.

Mahvir joined him at the table.

"We need to put this together?" the keeper frowned and looked at the jumbled mess.

"If we work together it won't take us more than an hour or so."

Hawen nodded.

They started by sorting the pieces. The puzzle hadn't been hard to Mahvir for a very long time. However, he wasn't one to talk here given the fact he was the original creator of this puzzle.

With Hawen's aid, it took him a little longer to put it together than if he had been working on it by himself. Still the help was welcome. They spoke only to help in solving each piece while the others paced or sat around the edges of the room.

An hour passed before the final pieces were left on the table.

"Fen'Harel's group will be on it way now, right?" Acacia asked.

A soft click filled the room as Hawen put in a piece.

Mahvir did the same on his side.

"Most likely," Mahvir answered.

"And we cleared out most of the undead, right? So they'll get here pretty fast."

The last piece was on the table.

Mahvir let Hawen put it in while he turned to the girl. "Yes. But they will still have to contend with the trials or blow open every door to get through them."

"Why didn't we do that?" Acacia demanded. "We wouldn't have had to waste all this time on pointless questions and puzzles."

"It would have shown great disrespect to Dirthamen." Hawen glared at the girl. "Am I to believe you want us to lose our religion as well as our homeland and history?"

"No," she muttered, "but it would have been faster."

"There is a right way to go about this mission," Mahvir told her. "And this was it. If we blasted our way through and sentinels of Dirthamen are still alive, we would have been attacked by now."

"Oh."

Hawen placed the last piece. "Now, let's see what else is left."

The door opened.

Hawen took the lead this time with Mahvir bringing up the back with Kalyca. "Her intentions are good," Kalyca whispered to him, "but I wish she saw the other gods in the same light she does Fen'Harel. Same with the rest of the _lenen_."

"We can only be patient with the young and pray some of your teachings stick."

She smiled. "I suppose."

The next room was massive. There was no balcony in the room as Mahvir had seen in Mythal's only raven statues with the largest flanking a space at the far end. There was cut out in the wall between the birds where the priest would have sat or Dirthamen himself if he was in the temple at the time.

It had once held cushions and pillows but was now bare stone. Scorch marks scarred the stone on either side of the room. Each mark in a line with the strokes of a weapon akin to a staff.

 _Thud_!

The room shook as the door slammed shut behind them.

A shiver raced through Mahvir. He didn't need to turn to know a few sentinels now stood behind them. A few had weapons drawn. Others, moving in from the shadows had their hands resting on hilts or bows.

" _Venavis_!" a clear voice sounded from the figure who slipped from the shadows near the two raven statues. The voice was female, the figure slight despite the armor and robes covering her form. The armor she wore looked the same as the sentinels of Mythal only the color had changed to a richer purple with the robes being black. "You shouldn't be here. Who are you? How did you get passed the wards?"

The dalish shifted closer to one another. "We have shown no disrespect to Dirthamen." Hawen took a brave step towards the woman. "We've completed his trials."

The woman gave a sharp, scoffing breath. "Those are far from the wards I speak of, quick child."

Mahvir limped forward to stand level with Hawen. "We come with Dirthamen's favor."

Deceit landed on top of his staff.

The woman's gaze, hidden by the shadows of her hood, seemed to flicker over Mahvir, taking in the raven. "I see. A raven led you. Why have you come?"

"Fen'Harel has woken," Mahvir explained, choosing his words with care. "He seeks the knowledge of this temple and will stop at nothing to retrieve it."

A few whispered in elvish. " _He's alive._ "

" _Be silent_ ," the woman hissed at the man who'd spoken.

"My companions and I seek to stand against Fen'Harel. We implore you for your aid in making certain he doesn't take any knowledge from this sacred place." Mahvir bowed to the sentinels. "I implore you, ancient ones, to aid us in this endeavor."

The woman hesitated. "Your words sound of truth." She bowed her head. "Very well. Our master would never wish for his knowledge and secrets to fall into the Dread Wolf's paws." She paused. "I believe he would take pleasure in knowing his knowledge returned to the People."

"Atisha," the man stepped forward.

She flicked her hand at him in a dismissive gesture. "Watch for the wolf's forces, Vir, I will escort them to our master's chambers." She turned. "Follow."

The sentinel set a slow, smooth pace through a door to their right. It led into a side chamber. More signs of an ancient battle echoed here. The walls were scorched and scared from hot flames. A dagger was embedded deep into the wall near the door. The cloth long since gone leaving only the metal behind.

"What happened here?" Acacia turned to inspect the room as she followed them. She moved to one of the daggers. Another had been imbedded in the ground and a few could be seen high in the ceiling.

She knelt and touched the hilt. A small grunt came from her as she tugged. The dagger didn't budge.

The sentinel stopped and huffed. "Don't bother, the knife was thrust through time. None but Dirthamen could remove it now."

Acacia frowned as she stood. "But what happened?"

"Falon'Din happened," the sentinel didn't elaborate as she continued across the room. "This way."

Mahvir continued moving, only taking in the damage with a glance. It was all too easy for images of the past to press down on his vision. Falon'Din stood across the room, scythe drawn. Flames danced around him as he twisted it in an elegant display of power.

Heat.

The sound of flames and metal.

Mahvir leapt back, drawing his throwing knives. He threw them, speeding them up through time itself.

Mahvir forced back the images. It was further in the past than even Andraste's death. The events between his twin and himself unfolding less than a month before Mythal's death. It had been the start of the end. Elgar'nan manipulating Falon'Din and the others. Events which led up to Mythal's death which then led to Solas's actions to sunder the Fade from the mortal realm.

"Falon'Din happened? That doesn't answer the question!"

"Acacia," Kalyca whispered to the girl, "we shouldn't press for answers. Not now."

Curiosity glimmering in Hawen's eyes as he inspected the room. He didn't pause to ask questions though and continued after the sentinel. All of it vanished into wondered as they entered the chambers.

"Creators," Hawen breathed. He walked as if in a dream towards the shelves lining one side of the room. The shelves reached the celling and were packed with books. "I've never seen," his words trailed off as he pulled one of the books, almost reverently, from the shelf. He held it almost as one would a baby and let the book fall open in his hands.

The other three Dalish stood in silent wonder, eyes wide as they stared at the amount of lost history before their eyes.

"Dirthamen was one of the few who refused to use the later methods to record teachings, theories, and thought. He handwrote everything and his followers were the ones to transfer them into the _Vir Dirthara_ ," the sentinel explained. "This is only a portion of my master's works." Her light blue eyes grew pained. "The rest was lost during the fall of Elvhenan. Centuries of knowledge, gone in the blink of an eye."

"If I might ask," Mahvir started, "may we take the books and whatever else Fen'Harel can use, with us?"

The sentinel nodded. "I will gather a bag." She paused. "My sentinels will join you," she stated. "With the last of our master's knowledge going with you, there is nothing left for us here." She left them.

"Just one bag, to carry all of this?" Acacia gestured at the wall. "There's no way." She shook her head.

A few of the sentinels entered the room. "Atisha told us to aid you in gathering the books," the lead of the two stated.

The other moved to the bookcase. He moved to the top shelf and started to pull the books down. The one who had spoken took to gathering those lower with the aid of Nitsa. With the aid of the sentinals they wouldn't be in here for long.

Hawen traced some of the letters of book he was still looking at.

"Keeper," Mahvir started as he limped over to the keeper. He placed his hand on Hawen's shoulder. "There will be time to look through these when we return to camp."

The keeper hesitated. He let out a small breath and nodded. "All right." He moved to aid the others.

Atisha returned with a bag. "You two," – her gaze snapped to the two huntresses – "help me gather the books in this bag."

"All of them?" Acacia demanded.

"Yes, all of them." Atisha's eyes narrowed as she looked at the young huntress.

"But, how will it fit in that tiny bag? There's just no way."

Atisha let out an annoyed breath and muttered something in elvish which sounded like she was calling the girl ignorant. She lifted the books which were quickly pilling up at the bottom of the shelves from the other sentinels and placed them into the bag. They vanished within, leaving no trace of ever having even entered the bag.

"W-what is that?" Acacia asked, eyes wide.

"An infinity bag," one of the other sentinels explained. "Your companion carries one as well." He tilted his head in Mahvir's direction.

Mahvir had moved a little passed Hawen to help the keeper in gathering the books. His bag was still wet, but he felt the inside was dry and safe for the books. He slipped a few into the bag.

Hawen frowned. "How are they made?" His glittered as if the keeper could just see the uses for such bags.

"Only Dirthamen could make them," the sentinel who had told them what it was explained. "From my understanding of it, master would weave the thread and it would be sown such that it created a pocket demotion where any amount of items could be stored." He shrugged a little. "You go through the trials, then you must have seen the Fade rune on the iron bark, right?"

"So that was what that was," Nitsa mused. She started to help gather the books as well.

"But if only Dirthamen could make them, then how did Shartan end up with one of the bags?" Acacia frowned.

"Very carefully," Mahvir replied.

The shelves were slowly being cleared. Mahvir set down his bag so Hawen and Nitsa could continue to load more books into it. He moved over to Atisha.

"Is there anything else which Fen'Harel might be able to use?" His voice calm almost even.

"This way." The sentinel moved off. "The rest of you continue working on the books!" she barked the order over her shoulder.

She led Mahvir through a gape in the wall which had once held clothes to sperate this room from the main chambers. The next room held a shallow pool. The clear was untouched by the flooding in the temple beyond. There was no flow in or out of cave. Below the surface, he could just make out the soft layers of algae growing over a beautiful, smooth stone.

" _It's good to see you again, master_ ," Atisha whispered in elvish once the two of them were out of earshot of the group. " _Am I right in assuming you don't wish the children to know you're really Dirthamen_?"

Mahvir bowed his head. " _You are._ "

She nodded. "The last item of concern is our master's Foci," she informed him in common. She knelt down. The part of the wall slipped aside to reveal a small hole in the wall. She pulled out an orb and wiped her hands as no doubt she had touched rotted cloth.

It had been centuries since Mahvir had seen his orb. It was domant right then and he had no desire to try and activate it. Doing so would be the surest means of Solas learning another was awake and here, moving to counter him.

"Let's go," he whispered to Atisha. He didn't make to grab the foci, letting her carry it back into the other room. It was, after all, the most powerful artifact here. She would have to keep it from the children as well, lest one rip apart the very fabric of time instead of just ripping hole in the Veil.

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** What's really sad, is I am rereading _Blood of the People_ to help remember what Herenya and I did in the temple and this version of Mahvir isn't really teasing as much as he did with Nimwen being the Inquisitor.

The first trial of Dirthamen is now officially getting Deceit to go through the passage to open the door XD

I added to the trials. Mythal actually had five (if we count the door) and I wanted Dirthamen to have at least three instead of two. There is a small shrine (temple) in the hinterlands which is for Dirthamen where you have to solve a puzzle. I believe he would have had more than just the two Herenya and I could come up with before. **)**


	7. Echo of the Past

**Unedited! Will be edited later.**

 **Reviews are greatly loved.**

* * *

The last of the rubble was just about cleared.

Solas stood at the top of the stairs which would lead into the very heart of Dirthamen's temple. The light which still emanated from the torches the others had lit below.

The sound of water filled the air as it dripped and ran down the sides of the passage. The sight was closer to the temple Solas had visited during its construction. He could still remember going to speak with his nephew, to try and convince the gentle, kind hearted boy he could remember, it was madness to let their people see them as gods.

After all, this was the very first temple of Dirthamen. The one with most secrets and echoes of them which whispered still through the ancient halls. Yet, Solas had no way to know if this was still Dirthamen's main temple. There was much about his second nephew even he didn't know.

Out of all the others, Dirthamen had been the one to keep to himself. He stayed out of the wars with the others for the most part, unless one of the others threatened him or his people for the knowledge they all knew Dirthamen possessed.

This didn't mean Dirthamen was any less innocent than the other six. There was little that had happened back then Dirthamen didn't know about or have a hand in. Despite avoiding war with the others, it didn't mean he hadn't been the one to spark it in the first place.

From what Solas's spies had gathered, Dirthamen had always manipulated the situation for his own reasons. Solas suspected to this day those reasons had been personal gain. The foresight of Dirthamen was unnerving. Out of the other seven who had sown the death of Mythal all those centuries ago, Dirthamen was the only one Solas had truly feared fighting against.

Not because nephew was a powerful mage. Quite the contrary, Dirthamen had been the only none mage among the _evanuris_. Yet, he did have abilities.

Solas hadn't lied to the Inquisitor when he had said he'd never seen that kind of time manipulation before. He hadn't. But time magic was another matter entirely compared to the curd methods implored by the imperium. Dirthamen's control of time was centered around himself and no other. It hadn't caused it to unravel upon use. Rather it had sped his nephew up through time allowing him to move at speeds unmatched or throw items through it so it would strike faster and harder.

This wasn't why Solas was here. Dirthamen's Foci would prove useful, if it were hidden here, but the real reason was for the knowledge and secrets Dirthamen had gathered. His nephew hadn't been able to use even the most basic of magic, relying upon his abilities and mind to do the work or craft theories the others could then use. This meant there was a chance real physical books remained from Dirthamen. In one of those books had to be a key piece of information Solas was missing to recreate the anchor.

"Sir," one of Solas's agents moved up the passage. He was drenched and breathing from the work of clearing the passage. "The passage is now clear." His eyes gleamed. His face was marked with the _vallaslin_ of Falon'Din. A staff was placed on his back and he wore Dalish robes.

Solas nodded. "Very well." He started down the steps. Movement sent a wave of pain through him. A familiar pain he had felt each time he was too far from the last body Mythal had been in. The power he had taken from Mythal had helped, but in the same moment, his body was unused to it. It was only a matter of time and he had needed the boost. To help his people. To undo his mistake.

His bare feet slapped against wet stone. There was an eeriness about this place after so many centuries. There had been something about Mythal's temple which had still held some of its old magic. A feeling of a familiar about it. This, it just felt wrong. Dead, silent. None of the old magic lingered here.

This might have had something to do with Dirthamen's lack of affinity towards magic or what had transpired here at the fall of Elvhenan.

The water rose just up to his knees as Solas came to the bottom of the steps. He pulled his staff and let the light fill the area. The light bounced off the drenched walls of the once beautiful temple. There were less displays of wealth here than he had seen in Mythal's temple. This was more than a little shocking. All Solas could see were golden statues of ravens and not even all of them were done in gold.

He waded further in, skimming the area.

It wasn't too hard to picture the last time he had been here. It had been one of the few days Dirthamen had been without his twin brother Falon'Din close to him. He had stood within this very temple, dressed in dark robes, long hair falling down his back as he worked on some theory or another he had at the time.

On that day, Solas had learned none of his family were willing to go against what the People viewed them as. He had lost Dirthamen to greed and hunger for power as surely as all of his other nephews and nieces.

Solas paused.

A corpse floated in the murky water. A few arrows stuck from its chest and neck.

Solas moved towards it and touched the arrow.

"My lord?" The sound of the young mage following came to Solas. It was followed by the others who had cleared the rubble.

Solas ran his hand up the shaft, feeling the feathers. This was a resent kill. Perhaps a few hours old. He pulled the arrow from the corpse.

"The kill is fresh," Solas informed the group.

A small breath came from the mage beside him. "I know this arrow," breathed the child.

Solas passed the arrow to him. "Explain."

"This notching here," – he pointed out a few of the notches where the arrow head met the shaft – "only my clan's craft master does this."

This meant there were members of the People from Hawen's Clan down here. Hawen had refused to join with Solas's group when a few of his agents had gone to the old keeper. He was far from the only one among the Dalish.

Still, Solas hadn't expected to run into members of Hawen's clan here. Especially given the passage had only just been uncovered. There weren't many who knew the back passages through the temple outside of Dirthamen's sentinels and Dirthamen himself.

How had the clan gotten down here ahead of Solas's group? He turned to the young mage.

"I-I don't know how anyone got down here," the boy stuttered a little at the sight of Solas's eyes. "We didn't even come down until you arrived, and no one went this far. We just went far enough to finish clearing the rubble, my lord."

"There is no way the clan could have learned the secrets of this place," Solas whispered to himself. He skimmed the area and wadded forward.

There were more corpses. A few showed signs of being struck with magic. Others were bashed by a shield and slashed with a sword. But it was the ones which displayed the signs of a dagger wound which drew his eye. The strikes were keen and precise. There was something familiar about the twist in the slashes which reminded Solas of the Inquisitor. The wounds were such that it had been done by one dagger.

The Inquisitor had left Skyhold after disbanding the Inquisition. There had been reports of him going off on his own and none of Solas's spies knew what had become of the man after that. Had Mahvir gone to Hawen's clan? No matter, the man couldn't unite the People to stand against Solas, no matter how hard he tried. There was too much between the city elves and Dalish.

There were many who didn't trust Solas even among the city elves and especially among the older members of the Dalish.

" _Da'len_ , how many mages are left in your clan?" Solas asked without turning to the young mage.

"Just Keeper Hawen should be left. The first before me died and the other mage in our clan ran off on his own and was killed by demons. It was only by stroke of the creators we happened to four mages in our clan instead of just three," the young boy informed Solas. "Why?"

"These were killed by a mage." Solas gestured to a few. "Do you believe Hawen is here?"

"I don't know. It would take a lot for the keeper to leave the clan," the boy confessed. Unease glittered in his eyes. He shifted, appearing uneasy when it came to talking about the clan he had left to help Solas.

Solas nodded and started through passages. Shadows shifted. It was enough to tell not all the undead had been beaten by the group ahead of them. There was also no telling how much of a head start Hawen's group had on them.

The undead leapt from the shadows.

Solas's eyes burned.

The undead turned to stone and fell into the murky waters. The water steadily deepened.

Solas felt them pass through an ancient magical barrier.

The boy shivered. "What was that? It felt old," he breathed the final word with a shudder.

"A few of Dirthamen's sentinels must have survived." Such a fate was worse than if they had died in the flood. To continue in service to their master for all eternity when Dirthamen would never return to them.

Yet, there wasn't one source of Dirthamen's power as there had been for Mythal's. At least none Solas or even Mythal had known about. Dirthamen guarded his secrets and power far more closely than all the others had. Still, if there was a source of his knowledge, the knowledge kept by all his priests and priestesses it would be within this temple.

Solas waded deeper into the water. His staff cut through the gloom to show a narrow passage ahead. He remembered it being a part of the ceiling before and the dip below having been a gathering point for those waiting to undergo the trials of Dirthamen. Little gold glittered under the murky water. It was as if Dirthamen had an aversion to showing his wealth.

No, not an aversion. Rather instead of gold, Dirthamen had adorned his halls in rich silks of deep purple die. The tapestries showed as much wealth as the gold had just wouldn't have lasted the centuries as well as the gold.

Solas pulled himself from the water. The fur dragged him down with the weight. He ignored it and continued forward through the gloom. There was no sign of Hawen's group. Nothing to show they had made it this far and no signs they had died either.

It wasn't long before he drew to a stop before the massive doors which would lead into the trials of Dirthamen. The only sign someone else had passed through here was a slight disturbance in to the barrier.

"How are we going to get through, Lord?" asked the young mage.

Solas lift his hand. He hesitated. There was a chance if he didn't blast his way through he could sway more of his people to join with him. Yet, Dirthamen had sided with his father at the fall of Elvhenan. He had killed Mythal and fought alongside the others to stop Solas. It was unlikely the sentinels would even give Solas a chance to explain why he had done what he had done to their master.

Pain twisted his heart. More of his people killed just like that. It was for the cause of undoing his mistake.

He lifted his hand. The stone moaned before the doors were blasted from their hinges. Dust clogged the air as more stone tumbled to the ground in cascade. The massive doors had slammed into the stone ravens just beyond. The barrier before the door flickered before vanishing. It left a hint of magic lingering in the air.

Solas strode across the threshold and into the room of the first trial. He had never seen the actual trials. The visit he had made here had led him through another tunnel or he had come into the temple through the eluvian. The eluvian to this temple had destroyed. It had been his first thought on how to reach the lower levels and main section of the temple.

He stepped up onto the dias. The spirit waited there. The heaviness grew in his heart. Dirthamen had bound a spirit to this place to act as the first trial. It had lingered here, waiting for centuries. Even if it was a piece of knowledge rather than a full spirit, it was still cruel beyond measure. As cruel as when he had learned his nephew had bound a spirit of fear and deceit to him and kept them with him for the rest of his days.

Solas moved passed the spirit to the door. He lifted his hand. Once more the door was blasted off its hinges.

Solas forced himself to press on through the next room and the one which followed. This wasn't a betrayal to Dirthamen. After all his nephew had betrayed him long before now by siding with Elgar'nan. His once kind nephew was long gone.

His heart flickered. It wasn't true, not entirely. Dirthamen had been there at his mother's murder. He had a hand in it. Still, there was nothing more which Solas remembered of Dirthamen during the war which had followed.

The group exited the trials into the chambers beyond. The lingering sound of settling dust was all which greeted Solas's ears. He skimmed the area. There was no sign of the sentinels.

Odd.

Solas took a soft step forward. It could be they were hiding in the shadows far better than Mythal's had been. This was, after all, Dirthamen's sentinels and not Mythal's. Only dust stirred as Solas moved through the room. There were signs others were there. The slightest change in the dust on the ground.

Perhaps Hawen's group had made it this far. Given there was no signs of their bodies it had be so. Solas quickened his stride.

The next room held hints of lingering magic. Spells cast with intent to kill. A battle had taken place here centuries ago. Solas frowned.

There was something more. The temple was too quiet.

*~ _Mahvir_ ~*

Mahvir straightened from where he had been helping load the last of the books into a bag. A sound trickled to him. Distant, but there. It was the clanging of a striking a stone wall. They were out of time.

"The dread wolf is coming," Vir informed them as he rushed into the room. "We need to go now. It won't be long until he's here." Vir rushed over to the bookshelf and shoved the last of the books into a bag.

"Is there another way out of the temple?" Hawen asked. His gaze moved to Atisha.

A small frown appeared on her face. It pulled at her _vallaslin_. "There is one. It shouldn't have collapsed."

Vir's eyes brightened. "You mean the one master built for," he cut off at Atisha's sharp look.

"Yes, that one." Her gaze flickered back to Hawen and his group. "I am assuming you're a mage?"

Hawen bowed his head. "I am."

"Take the lead with me to light the way." She turned to a few the sentinels. "Vir, gather the bags."

Vir huffed but didn't complain. He did as she asked.

Solas's group was moving ever closer to them. They needed to leave now. Mahvir pulled himself to his feet. His body shook with the effort. It had been a mistake to sit down and help with the lower shelves. He took a deep, struggled breath.

"We need to go now." Vir's hand slid over his bow.

Atisha barked a few orders to the sentinels before she gestured to Hawen. The two of them took the lead.

Mahvir took a step to follow. Fire lanced through his leg. He kept moving, though his pace was far too slow. It wasn't enough. He gritted his teeth, forcing his steps to quicken. He wouldn't be a burden on the clan or the sentinels. He wouldn't let any of them attempt to stay behind just to protect him.

The passage out of the temple lay just beyond the room they'd been in, more towards the pool.

"What was that used for?" Acacia asked.

Atisha opened it and ducked in. Hawen was only a step behind. Mahvir waited for the rest of the clan to go. He glanced at the sentinels. All of them looked at him.

Mahvir moved into the passage. Dampness clung to the ancient stone. It pulled at his lungs until they felt laden with the wet weight. Mahvir forced air into his lungs and kept moving. He dared not slow for the sentinels could easily make a fuse. All of them had recognized him as Dirthamen and not one of the Dalish.

Pain tingled through his leg. The air was drowning his lungs with dampness. Mahvir forced himself forward. Each step jolted through his body as a flame cracking wood. The gape between Mahvir and Acacia, who he had been following, grew with each step he took. He placed all his weight on the wall each time he placed weight on his bad leg. Cool sweet coated his face.

"Master?" Vir breathed Mahvir's old title.

Mahvir shook his head. "Go," he rasped the words, "ahead." The books Vir carried were far more important than Mahvir. If the sentinels and Hawen's group left him, Mahvir would be able to catch up later by slowing time.

"What?" Vir almost growled the question. "You can't be series," he slipped into elvish. His voice dropped to less than a whisper, so soft only Mahvir could pick it up and this was only by repeating the words several times through time itself. "Couldn't you slow time on yourself?" Vir's eyes glittered, his lips turned down in a frown.

Mahvir shook his head. He was already slowing time on himself. Anymore and it would have a far nastier result. "I'm fine," he stated and forced himself forward. There was no way Vir or any of the sentinels would have let him drop behind. Not even when they were attempting to pretend he wasn't Dirthamen.

Mahvir kept his focus split between trying to keep pace and his sight on Solas. Solas had entered the chambers minutes after they had entered the passage. Solas's features were contorted with frustration, eyes narrowed, a scowl playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes flashed as he inspected the room. He instructed his people to fan out and search for anything which might remain.

Solas himself moved to search for any sign of a passage they could have gone through. He wouldn't find it. Still, they needed to keep up this fast pace.

Mahvir staggered out into fresh air behind the others. His breathing eased though he was still forcing air through narrowed pipes. "We need," he started, each word strained, "to return to camp and pack up."

Hawen nodded. "If Fen'Harel figured out we were the ones who took the books," the keeper trailed off, features pale. "The harts shouldn't be far." He glanced at the sentinels.

There were too many of them to join them on the harts.

"We can keep pace." Atisha showed them a necklace she wore. "Our master gave us tools to move quickly."

"Very well," there was a note of uncertainty to Hawen's voice. He didn't question Atisha and instead lead the way to where the harts had been left.

" _Deceit,_ " Mahvir instructed the raven, " _make certain we're not being followed._ "

" _Fine_." Deceit snapped her beak and took off from the hart's antlers.

The trip passed in a blur of activity. Mahvir kept half of his sight on Solas even as he focused on his breathing while seated behind Hawen. It took all of his physical strength to not fall off the hart. Most of this "strength" was coming from time manipulation. The same magic as the sentinels now used to keep pace with the harts.

The trees fell away to the fields closer to the dalish camp. Water spray up around them as the harts bounded through the stream and up into the camp.

"Keeper." The clan _hahren_ rose to greet them.

"We need to pack up camp now!" Hawen slid from the mount's back. "Recall all t he hunters," he ordered the hunters and warriors who remained in the camp.

Mahvir followed the keeper in the dismount. He staggered on hitting the ground. His hand moved to his chest, breathing strained. The clan needed all hands to help pack the camp and all Mahvir could do was stand there struggling for air.

He pulled out one of the planets and breathed it in. This did little. His airways cleared some, but it wasn't enough he could make himself useful to the clan.

"Master," Vir moved to his side.

"Help the clan," Mahvir whispered the instructions to the sentinels around him. "And, please, continue to pretend I am not your," – bitterness filled his mouth – "master."

Only Vir bowed his head while the others moved off to aid the clan.

"Head for the keeper and clan _hahren_." At Vir's confused look, Mahvir specified, "The woman Hawen is speaking with."

"Right." Vir headed for the two. He glanced behind him at Mahvir as he walked off.

Freed from the eyes of the sentinels, Mahvir leaned against the hart. He focused on evening his breathing.

" _Hahren_."

Mahvir opened his eyes a slit to see Egeril standing before him.

"Come, you must rest in the warmth of my _aravel_."

Mahvir opened his mouth ready to protest, but he cut himself off with a glance at the busy clan. He was being useless out here. He might as well be useless in the healer's _aravel_.

" _Ma serannas_." Mahvir bowed his head to her.

It wasn't long before he was seated in the warm _aravel_. The feeling of the _aravel_ moving off soon followed his arrival within it. Mahvir leaned against the wall and let his sight wander away from Solas and his group. There was no threat coming from Solas's group right then. Without being able to follow through the passage they had taken to escape or enter, it would take well over a day for Solas to pick up their trail and this was assuming Solas wouldn't rather try another tact at getting the information he needed.

" _Dirthamen_ ," a voice trickled into his mind. It was Fear.

" _That was fast, did you meet with clan Lavellan_?"

" _I did. She agreed to meet you in Ferelden near Denerim_."

" _My thanks, Fear. Join Deceit in keeping an eye out for Solas_."

" _If I must_."

The soft sound of feet against wood and his foresight allowed Mahvir to see Hawen, the clan _hahren_ , and Atisha had all entered the _aravel_.

"Shartan," Hawen started as he settled himself across from Mahvir.

Mahvir opened his eyes.

Atisha stood near the entrance into this section of the _aravel_ while the clan _hahren_ settled herself beside Hawen.

"Keeper, what do we owe the pleasure?" Egeril asked as she moved from the small section which held her bed into this one.

"We need to discuss where we're heading next." The keepers gaze moved from the clan healer to the _hahren_ before coming to rest on Mahvir.

"I have a few contacts in Fereland," Mahvir informed them. "As long as your people have no qualms with joining up with out kin in the cities, they will prove to be valuable allies."

"I have no objections," the _hahren_ gave him a soft smile.

"Nor do I," Hawen spoke as if the words were a strained breath. "It is necessary to match Fen'Harel's strength after all."

Mahvir bowed his head. " _Ma serannas_ , Keeper Hawen."

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** So, I think I said I wasn't going to have a Solas point of view. But after a while I realized just how much he needed to tell certain parts of the book.

For anyone who read the original books I wrote with Henerya I did end up having to redesign parts of the temple. It's been seen throughout this entire story. Some of the backstory of Mahvir's has also changed from the stories we wrote together. This is an alt reality after all.

Also sorry about the long delay. **)**


	8. Creator's Sight

**Unedited! Will be edited later.**

 **Reviews are greatly loved.**

* * *

Whispers of the traveling clan filled Mahvir's ears even as night lay thick over them. Conversation leapt out from the flickering candlelight of the _hahren's_ aravel. The words intermixed with Hawen's and few of the sentinels. Mahvir's sight let his minds eye leave the healer's aravel to see what was happening in the _hahren's_.

Hawen and the _hahren_ were seated on the _hahren's_ bed. Atisha and a few of the sentinels were either seated in the space or standing. Atisha knelt before the bags close to the _hahren_ and keeper.

"These were really written by Dirthamen?" the _hahren_ breathed. She lifted one of the books, the touch gentle, other hand brushing the cover with reverence. Her eyes glittered.

"They were," Atisha confirmed.

The book fell lightly open in the _hahren's_ lap. Her eyes lit with excitement as breath fled her lips. "Oh, my. It's so rare to see so much written elvish." She traced the letters. "And so much is still legible."

"Oh, master was good with persevering knowledge," Vir straightened, puffing out his chest. "You won't find any of the other creators taking such precautions with their stashes of knowledge. None of them had nearly as much foresight as our master does."

"What was he like?" Hawen tore his gaze from the book on the _hahren's_ lap. His gaze was intent as he looked at the sentinels. "What were all of the creators' like?"

Vir leaned back, frowning. "I've only really seen the other creators when going with Atisha and Master to meetings. The only other one was Falon'Din who visited our master often."

Atisha hissed, lips curling at this. "Don't mention that traitor's name." She straightened.

"There is so little known about any of the creators." Hawen looked at the group of sentinels.

"Then," – Atisha bowed her head to the keeper – "it would be my pleasure to tell you about our master."

The keeper and _hahren_ exchanged glances, smiles on their faces. The years melted from them, it was as if they were the children and the sentinels had just given them greatest of all treats in the world.

"Please," the _hahren_ leaned forward, her hand resting on the cover of the book.

Atisha leaned back against the wall of the aravel. "I suppose the best place to start is how all of us became his sentinels. It is, after all, how we first met him.

"Every one of the creators has away of binding their sentinels and priests to them. Most of them took it to a physical bond, making it impossible to disobey or harm the creator they had chosen to serve. Dirthamen and Fen'Harel were the only two who didn't go about these means." Atisha laughed. "Granted the dread wolf didn't have priests or sentinels."

"Our master had another way to ensure our loyalty without resorting to us binding our very lives to him." Vir grinned. "He raised us."

The keeper and _hahren_ glanced at one another. "What?"

"Dirthamen would leave his temple for great lengths of time and wander among the People. None would recognize him during this and he was always searching for children who were unwanted, who had been abandoned or those who had lost their family." Atisha's eyes softened. A small smile played at the corners of her lips.

Images flickered over Mahvir's eyes. The moments he had first seen Atisha and her memory of confusion, fear and later love.

"Master took all of us from bad situations and raised us as if we were his own children." A small breath escaped Vir.

"Not all the children he raised stayed on as sentinels. Many left the temples while only a few of us remained in his service.

"To many outside of our group, Dirthamen preferred to keep to himself. We knew he spent most of his time away from the temples with the people. No matter the kindness he showed the people, he was always spoken in the next breath to Falon'Din, always the one forgotten in the wake of his twin's strength and achievements." Atisha's grip tightened eyes flashing.

"Our people always speak of Falon'Din and Dirthamen together," _Hahren_ Evania informed them. "There are many legends and stories passed down on how they never wished to be apart."

"When our master was younger he was always beside his twin," Vir informed them. "Our master wasn't the strongest physically nor could he use the same magic as the other creators. Rather his own power rested in time itself. Falon'Din used to act protective of Dirthamen."

"Near the fall of Elvhenan this changed," Atisha continued. "Falon'Din didn't come by our master's main temple as often. More times than naught he sent out his own forces to try and capture more terrority or gain more followers through shows of force. Then came the day he attacked our master." Atisha gripped her arm. "That day our master told us not intervene, he had seen the moment was coming and didn't want any of us harmed in a fight between him and Falon'Din.

"He told us his full plan before Falon'Din arrived at the temple. There was little chance our master could win in an all-out battle between himself and Falon'Din. Those daggers you saw imbedded into the ground and the scorch marks on the walls of the temple are scars, echoes of their fight." Atisha's eyes glittered.

"Our history tells us Dirthamen was sealed away with the other creators by the dread wolf. Was he?" Hawen asked.

"I doubt it."

Vir glanced at Atisha. "Our master wasn't part of Mythal's murder," he informed them. "Falon'Din had tried to kill our master before the others moved against Mythal and sparked the war between them and Fen'Harel. From what our master told of us his plan, he would have manipulated Fen'Harel's memory to make it appear he had been there as well. Something about the future where Fen'Harel blamed all of them for Mythal's murder was a far better one than if Fen'Harel knew the truth over all the events unfolding back then."

"Our master left us so he could move without notice by the others. Fen'Harel would believe Dirthamen sided with Elgar'nan, while Elgar'nan would believe Falon'Din had been successful and killed his twin. None of us knew fully what our master planned to do, but it is unlikely the creation of the Veil sealed our master away with the others."

Hawen frowned. "A creator was murdered?"

"In a sense. Mythal didn't truly die. None of the nine can, but her physical form was killed, and she exists now in other forms. I don't know what she's passing as now." Atisha shrugged. "I don't plan on looking for her either. It's unlikely we'd find her as it is. The dread wolf would have sought her out already."

"What do mean by the creation of the Veil? The Veil has always been there?" The _hahren_ glanced between the sentinels.

"It hasn't been. It was what the dread wolf created to seal way the others."

"Then why do you think it's unlikely Dirthamen got sealed away?"

"Our master can see all possible futures, the choices and roads which lead to them and more. He knows what is happening everywhere at any given moment, each sense enhanced until he hears, sees, feels, and knows everything from the past, present, and future around the world. If he was sealed away, then it was because he knew it would lead to a better future for the people than the one where he wasn't."

"It's for this reason we believe he wasn't sealed with the others," Vir informed them. "There isn't a future I can think of where the people wouldn't need Dirthamen or he couldn't help in someway to guide them to a slightly better one than one which lay before them without him there."

"So, if he wasn't sealed, you're saying he would help us to stop Fen'Harel?" Hawen eyes lit as a smile appeared on his face.

"He most likely has already started to move against Fen'Harel if it is in the best interest of the people and the world, which it is. No one will be able to tell it's him though if he is acting and I doubt he would want anyone to know it's him."

"Why not?" Evania demanded. "The people would rally under Dirthamen far more quickly than under any other."

"Our master never liked being viewed as a god," Atisha confessed. "It's why he traveled often among the people as one of the people rather than making it known he was there. He covered his face if he met with those who worshiped him so only his eyes could be seen so he could continue to walk among the people. The people are his family, his world, I doubt he would ever want them to worship him again."

"But we do worship him."

"Not his physical form," Atisha pointed out. "You worship him as a god."

"It would explain why prayers to him go unanswered," Hawen let out a breath and rubbed his eyes.

" _Ma serannas_ for telling us more about Dirthamen. Even knowing he might still be out there, watching over us, is enough." Evania smiled and bowed her head to the sentinels. "I hope you're right and he is aiding us even it is just from the shadows."

Hawen took one of the scrolls from a bag. "We should try to translate some of these. There might be something in one of the books to help with the situation the people are in. Even if there isn't then we will at least learn more about our history."

Movement drew Mahvir's attention from the _hahren's_ aravel. He opened his eyes a slit, a small breath escaping him. His heart twisted. He had never wanted Atisha or the others to wait for him. To be driven to do so and yet they had.

"Forgive me, _hahren_ , I didn't mean to wake you." Egeril's shadowy form came into focus through the darkness of the aravel.

"I wasn't asleep." Mahvir pushed himself into a sitting position.

"You weren't?" The healer knelt before him. Her hand was soft as she touched his forehead. "You're not too warm? Too cold?"

"No, I'm fine," Mahvir assured her. He would rather she fuse than worry over the idea she had woken him. "I rarely sleep," he informed her even knowing she wouldn't take this well.

"What?" The healer's eyes widened. "I can mix something to help you sleep."

Mahvir lifted his head. "It's fine, _da'len_. Please, don't worry about me and continue with what you were doing."

"But—"

Mahvir touched her hand. "The clan needs you and the medicine you were preparing."

The healer let out a small breath. "Very well." She stood. "Try to get some rest."

"I will."

*~ _Cassandra_ ~*

Cassandra glanced up in time to see a raven land on the window. A letter was clasped in its beak. It had to be a reply to the letter she'd sent Mahvir. She had given him the location of where the new Seekers were training and requested he come by in order to start discussing how best to stop Solas.

Cassandra crossed to the raven and took the letter. The letter was addressed to her in Mahvir's familiar narrow script. She opened the letter.

 _Dear Cassandra,_

 _I am glad to hear the recruitment and training of the new Seeker order is going well. It sounds as if you have found yourself great allies who will stand by you and the new ideals the order is being built upon. Maker given their training will go smoothly and Thedas will have a full Seeker order in a few years' time._

 _I regret I will be unable to join you at this time. I've traveled to join Hawen's clan and they are moving away from the Dales. They have joined the side against Solas and thus must keep moving. I am staying with them in order to aid recruiting others of my people to the cause. One clan can't stand alone against Solas, especially one clan which has lost members to Solas's group already. I fear many of my people are moving to Solas's side. It is unlikely many city elves or Dalish remain who haven't already joined him._

 _The plan is for me to continue on this path, aiding my people where I can even if I am useless in combat now. I can't just leave them to be picked off by Solas's people as they are the main target for recruitment._

 _A new leader has shown himself to my people. I hope he can rally the People around him, uniting both city elves and the Dalish to stand against a common foe. If there is one matter my people will always agree upon whether city or dalish it is age is respected above all else. I only hope one legend can counter another in terms of respect. For the safety of my people I will not tell who this leader is. Forgive me, but I doubt the Chantry will be as understanding of him._

 _I know I promised I would visit and see how the training the seekers is coming, but this matter is also of great importance and I don't know when I will next be close to where you are._

 _If it isn't too much to ask, I would like you to speak with Leliana over the matter with Solas. My people will not be enough to stand in his path. Our only hope is to unite both a human and elven force against him. Perhaps even the dwarves, yet I know this would be asking too much as many dwarves have no interest in what occurs above ground. Perhaps between yourself, the divine, and Vivienne we can come up with a plan of action against Solas to protect our world._

 _Send a reply with this raven. He will be able to find me no matter where I am._

 _Maker watch over you,_

 _Mahvir_

Not coming? Cassandra lowered the letter. It was a little early after the disbanding the Inquisition to have made the request, still she had assumed he was traveling back to be with his clan, not going to Hawen's.

Cassandra looked at the raven. It looked like a normal raven to her and still there was no denying it wasn't the one she had used to send Mahvir the letter. It didn't have any of the markings on it which pointed it to being one of Leliana's ravens. It looked wild, untamed, yet it remained standing on the window without moving.

A small breath escaped her. "Stay here," she instructed the raven.

It just looked at her.

Cassandra left the room she had been in and moved through the cathedral to where the Divine would be at this time. Divine Victoria was in her office as was expected to be seen at this time of day.

"Did you hear back from Mahvir?" Leliana asked when Cassandra entered.

"I did."

"I take it he's not coming."

Cassandra fought against a scowl.

"He did just head out himself, Cassandra."

A frown twitched where the scowl had been. "You knew he didn't head for his clan didn't you?"

"No." Liliena frowned. "None of the spies I have are able to even locate where the Inquisitor has gone. It's as if he vanished after departing Sky Hold."

Cassandra blinked. Out of everyone she had assumed Leliana would have known where Mahvir had gone and what their former leader was up to. Even as divine Leliana had kept spies and a network. It had served her well and was one of the many reasons the assassination attempts had been unsuccessful.

"Here." Cassandra held out the letter Mahvir had sent her.

Leliana took it. "He went to Hawen's clan?" there was a note of surprise in her voice.

"So it seems."

"A new leader?" Leliana frowned as she set down the letter. "My people gave a report of an elf dressed in rags entering Hawen's clan. I wonder if this man is the leader Mahvir speaks of. My spies and myself didn't pay it much attention at the time, but I wonder what Mahvir means by the Chantry won't be as accepting of him as his people are."

"Do you believe it warrants investigation?"

"I do. Cassandra, if you're not too busy, I would like you to head for Ferelden. If Mahvir's letter is to be believed, then Hawen's clan must be heading over the frostbacks to get to Ferelden."

Cassandra hesitated. She was still training the new Seeker order, but this would be a good task for the group. They needed to discover more about what was going on with the elves, especially given one said faction of them was going to destroy their world in order to attempt to restore Elvhenan.

"Very well. I will take a group over into Ferelden to see what is going on with the elves." She glanced at the letter. "I doubt you want me to pass this information on to Mahvir."

"It would be for the best we don't inform the former Inquisitor." Leliana passed back the letter. "He's loyalty is more towards his people than anything else right now. Even if this new group seeks to stand in Solas's way, I don't know if they will have good intentions towards humans or not." Sorrow flickered in Leliana's eyes. "I don't like going behind Mahvir's back like this, but until we know who this leader really is, there is we should move as if he is as much of a threat towards us as Solas is."

This wasn't right. Mahvir had never treated humans poorly. In fact, he had always treated all races equally. There was always a sense of ease around him when he was with his own people, but if he had to judge an elf it would have been on the same level of fairness as a human.

Cassandra nodded. "All right." The words were bitter in her mouth. She stood. "I'll prepare are few of my people for the journey and only send back a short reply to Mahvir so he doesn't get suspicious I didn't reply."

*~ _Mahvir_ ~*

The air grew colder the deeper into the Frostback Mountains the clan traveled. Mahvir had been forced to stay inside most days. It didn't matter which _aravel_ as long as he wasn't outside. If he was outside for more than a few minutes Egeril would hear of it and track him down to get him back into an _aravel_ with all haste.

Mahvir let out a small breath as he looked over one of the books they had brought back from the temple. He was seated on the floor of the _hahren's_ _aravel_ with Hawen and Evania. The children had yet to come by for their lessons this day. Most likely they wouldn't be by at all. The clan was traveling through a narrow pass which meant travel between _aravels_ was being restricted to the healer, hunters, and warriors.

"I don't see what Fen'Harel would have gotten from most of these," Hawen broke the silence. "This last book wasn't even related to magic. It was a method to improve lives without the aid of magic. One which Dirthamen even noted at the end no one was interested in."

"During Elvhenan everyone was a mage or had magical talent," Mahvir pointed out as he continued to pretend to skim the book open on his lap. This one was one of the later theories which had been used by June with a few of the cities.

"But most of the books thus far are over either what people came to Dirthamen for, history, or theories which either saw implementation by June or were disregarded because there wasn't a use for it," Evania pointed out. She laughed. "Well, no use for it then. I can see many uses for the last one I ran across. It was rather brilliant."

"Same with the one I just finished." Hawn spread the scroll on the ground so all of them could see it. There was a sketch of what looked to be an _aravel_ but the design was different. "This would improve upon our _aravels_ greatly and uses even less magic than what we currently use to get them off the ground."

Evania frowned. "I've seen nothing in the history books I went through thus far which even pointed to the use of _aravels_ in Elvhenan. I can't imagine who would even be using them back then. So why are there designs for one among Dirthamen's personal collection?"

"Didn't Atisha tell us he could see all possible futures?" Hawen asked. "If so then perhaps Dirthamen saw one day our people would be traveling and living in _aravels_ and this is away for him to try and aid us."

"Perhaps," Evania conceded. While her tone reflected doubt her eyes glittered and the smallest hint of a smile could be seen on her face. She lifted another book. "But if Dirthamen really could see all possible futures, then wouldn't he have also known we would lose our language? It would be nice if he had made a guide for our people to relearn our language. It would certainly make this task easier."

"Perhaps he did. We've barely made it through the books and there are hundreds of them," Mahvir pointed out.

"True." Evania opened the book she held and blinked. Then she started to laugh. "Mythal's mercy, what are the chances?" She held out the book so both Hawen and Mahvir could see the title, written neatly, in common tongue: _A Guide to Elvish, Volume Twelve_.

Scrawled under the title was a note, also written in common:

 _My children,_

 _If the future I see has come to pass, then this is the first book you will find. I understand our language has been all but forgotten in the wake of slavery and war. It's my hope these guides will help our people regain a lost piece of our culture._

 _To find the first volume, go to an infinity bag and just think of the item you're after. The bag will do the rest and the book should come to your hand. If it's the wrong bag try another. I designed the bags such that the object the user most needs or wants is the item which is the easiest to get._

 _~Dirthamen_

It was weird to be reading a note Mahvir had left over two thousand years ago in the day he had seen it the book being found. A shiver raced through Mahvir. It was even odder to think a future he glimpsed so far off was now upon him. Such a future had felt distant but clear as if it had been the one most likely to happen. In the same instance he remembered it being a moment where he had seen countless others being able to find this book.

"He knew," Hawen breathed. "Creators, he knew." Hawen took the book from Evania, face flushed with a grin and eyes shining. He appeared a child giddy at the sight of a new toy. His hands trembled as he traced the ancient note from Dirthamen.

Evania moved over to the where the bags lay near to her bed. She knelt and reached into one of the bags. She waited a few moments before going to another bag. This time she let a small gasp. "It worked." She pulled back and sure enough volume one was clutched in her hand. She settled by them once more.

She opened the book.

A letter fell out of this one.

Evania frowned and lifted the letter. It was addressed to her. She blinked. "Did a creator really foresee so much?" she breathed the question. "If so why couldn't he have stopped the enslavement our people?"

"Creators might not be as powerful as you're thinking they are," Mahvir pointed out. "From what I've been gathering of this, Dirthamen's power lay more where it would be useful for information gathering or more subtitle manipulations than in being able to fight to invoke massive change."

"Perhaps the letter explains more?" suggested Hawen.

Evania opened the letter. Mahvir remembered clearly what he had written in it:

 _Dear Hahren Evania,_

 _I am glad my books have found their way into the hands of a teacher. From you I hope the knowledge spreads and reaches all of our people. While what has happened to bring this letter and you to the moment where you are is regrettable I am happy and proud of my people for making it this far and to one of the futures which is brighter and filled with the most chances for us to regain our footing in the world and, at long last, return to having a homeland._

 _If this is the future I see, then Solas will be a grave threat against the world. The dread wolf once wanted nothing more than free our people and have nothing to do with what he believed to be false gods. Yet, truths are rarely so easily defined. Our we gods, perhaps in a sense we are. I know the nine of us are not fully Elvhen. The quickening will never affect Solas or myself or any of my blood family._

 _The reason I am passing along this information is you can not kill Solas by normal means. Even unified as our people must become to stop him, we will stand little chance at killing him. A part of him would live on even after his physical form died. The best way to stop him is to subdue him or convince him this world is worthwhile and no matter how hard he tries the world of our youth is long gone. That he destroyed it long ago. Yet, despite his destroying it, perhaps this world is a far better one in the long run._

 _Ah, but I am rambling, and I doubt you need to hear such things as the world is the only one you have known._

 _The greatest chance on stopping Solas lies within the unity of all people: human, dwarven, elvhen, and more. Though such a reality would be unlikely to pass. It is for the best to make due with relying on the People and perhaps humans. I realize twenty centuries will have done little to mend the rift between humans and our people, but the world should be worth far more than holding to old grudges._

 _It is also my wish to see knowledge relearned. Our people have been severed from their past for far too long. These books will help with relearning our language. The library, my personal one, also contains all of the records I managed to record over our history. I hope it will answer questions which have been left open far too long. Please, I ask you share all of this knowledge with other Dalish clans, as I believe you call yourselves, and with those known as city elves in your time. No matter where one is born, you are still all my people. All elvhen._

 _Dareth Shiral,_

 _Dirthamen_

Evania passed the letter to Hawen when she had finished reading it.

"So, Fen'Harel's real name is Solas." A scowl appeared on the keeper's face. "He was with the Inquisitor very time Mahvir came by. I knew there was something about that man I didn't like."

"More importantly, we have new lessons to teach the _lenen_." Evania ran her down the first volume of the guide to the elven language. "And new ways to relearn what has been forgotten. It sounds like Dirthamen recorded the history up until whatever happened at the end of Elvhenan."

"It does." Hawen let out a breath. "I will need to speak with you," – his gaze locked onto Mahvir – "Atisha and Nitsa when we are over the pass. We need to figure out how to stop Solas with new information Dirthamen has graced us with."

Mahvir bowed his head. "It would be for the best."

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** Yeah, I am having fun with Dirthy's power right now. Also lots of letters. **)**


	9. Eth's Request

**First edit pass done**

 **Reviews are greatly loved.**

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Dorian looked out over Minrathous. The sun had set leaving only the soft glow of candles and torches to light the city. The elven crystal glowed in his hand while he waited for the Inquisitor and Iron Bull to pick up. It had been less than a week since his return to the Imperium. His heart longed to see both his lover and his best friend just one more time. Yet Bull would never fully be welcome here and Mahvir was in the Dales. Both were so far away.

Iron Bull had told Dorian once it had been Mahvir who had hinted Dorian was interested in him. A small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Mahvir had been the one who had also told Dorian life was too short to have regrets such as not perusing the Iron Bull. Dorian had asked the man countless times if there was someone in his own life.

The memory of the conversation trickled to the forefront of Dorian's mind. Mahvir was seated at one of the tables in the library back at Skyhold. Dorian settled himself into the chair across from the man.

"You went for it then?" Mahvir set down the book his dark eyes, ever knowing, locked on Dorian.

Heat folded Dorian's face. "That obvious?"

"You are smiling more this morning," Mahvir explained. He leaned back in his seat.

"You said life is too short to have regrets, yet, you've never taken up any of the ladies or men's offers."

Mahvir smiled.

"Do you have someone in your life? Back in your clan?" Dorian pressed.

"Once," Mahvir's eyes softened. "It was long time ago."

"You're only twenty-five," Dorian pointed out.

Mahvir chuckled, eyes glittering. "Ten years can seem like an age at my age," he joked. "It was a childhood crush, never went anywhere." There was something dismissive in his tone. "I'm just glad you and the Iron Bull can find a moment of happiness in all this chaos."

" _Kadan_ ," a voice pulled Dorian from the memory.

" _Amatus_? Did the Chargers make it to the new job in Navarra?" Dorain asked.

"Noble wants us to take down a group of bandits," Bull replied with a heavy breath.

"Let down?"

"A little. It was great being back with the boss. There is always something exciting happening around him."

"I hope not, I could do with a little less excitement in my life," Mahvir said in way of greeting to the two of them.

"Boss!" Bull exclaimed. "Damn it's good to hear both of your voices again."

It was good to hear them again. Now if only Dorian could be in the same room as his lover and friend.

"I take it you made it back to Minrathous all right, Dorian?"

"I did. How's the dreary Dales treating you?"

"Hmm. Hawen's clan has crossed the Frostbacks."

"What? What do you want with cold of Ferelden? How dreadful to be back there."

"I have a friend in Denerim," Mahvir explained.

"Really? You never spoke of this friend before." Dorian frowned, wracking his memory for anyone the Inquisitor knew in Ferelden. Well, other then those from the inquisition or those few contacts they had made closer to Redcliff.

"Yeah, boss, who's this friend and why didn't we go to him before during that demon shit?"

"He wouldn't have been of aid back then, Bull. And I saw no need to bring him up or visit during the Inquisition. An army doesn't go over well in an allienage." Mahvir changed the subject, "How's the Magisterium treating you, Dorian?"

Dorian groaned.

"That good?" Mahvir teased.

"I can come and knock some heads for you, _kadan_."

"No, no, it's fine, _Amatus_. Just not thrilled about being apart of it."

"Shame," Mahvir stated.

"Yes, real shame being stuck in doors doing paperwork day in and day out."

A small laugh came from the former Inquisitor. "Not what I meant by saying shame, _ma falon_. You have a chance few get to invoke real change in the Imperium. The type of change you wanted to see happen."

Dorian blinked. " _Kaffas_ ," he cursed.

"Language," Mahvir joked.

"What? You just realized you have the power to change things?" Bull demanded.

"More it slipped my mind."

Both Bull and Mahvir laughed at this.

Heat crept over Dorian's face. It made him glad neither could see him despite having wished to be in the same room with the two right then.

Mahvir's laughter cut off into a wheezing, harsh breaths.

"You all right, boss?"

Dorian frowned.

"Fine," the word came breathless over the crystal.

The soft sound of door opening followed. "Bull, we're ready to move out."

"Shit. Listen, _kadan_ , gotta go."

"Be safe."

Bull laughed. "I'll crush them first."

"I'll count on it."

"Later, boss," Bull said the last farewell.

It left Dorian alone, so to speak, with Mahvir. "What would you suggest I do to start things off?"

"Personally, pass laws to abolish slavery," there was a sad note in Mahvir's voice. It was also softer than before. "However, perhaps you should tackle something smaller first. The first step is to gain a following."

"I'll start there then."

"Like the Inquisition did."

Dorian laughed. This was true. "Only it's without you here."

"I'll come by as soon as I'm able."

"You're practically on the other side of Thedas right now."

"I never said it would be tomorrow," Mahvir joked, though sorrow lingered in his voice.

"I know I'm not easy to mess."

"Always, Dorian." There was a short pause. "Maker be with you in your endeavor."

"And with you while you try to do whatever you're doing."

"Thank you, Dorian." The crystal went dark. It showed Mahvir put it away.

Start to change the Imperium? Dorian looked out his window once more. There had to be a chance he could change things for the better.

*~ _Cassandra_ ~*

There were signs of a camp having been in this part of the Frostbacks. Cassandra jumped off her mount. Her boot crunched against the fresh snow. A bitter cold always hung over the Frostbacks.

"We're following a Dalish clan, right?" one of her older recruits asked as he jumped into the snow to join Cassandra.

Cassandra knelt by the remains of a small camp. There was nothing to show of a tent, only the chard remains of a bonfire. Fresh snow had covered any other signs outside of the fire. There was no telling if the dalish clan had traveled this way or not. This was the surest and safest route through the Frostbacks. It wouldn't have followed for Mahvir to suggest another route to Hawen or for Hawen to have gone another route if they were taking their entire clan, children and elderly included.

"We are." Cassandra straightened and looked towards the far side of the pass. A few flurries of snow flitted down to her. She couldn't see to the far side of the pass, but Mahvir and the clan had most likely already finished crossing the pass in the time it had taken for her seekers and herself to make it this far.

A small breath escaped her as she returned to her mount.

"When did they start across?" another recruit asked.

"Long before we did," answered the older one. "At least, if the remains of the fire is anything to judge by."

"But why are we tracking the clan?" The group started off once more at a steady pace.

The older one hesitated as he glanced at Cassandra. "Most likely a threat to the chantry."

"Elves," the younger one snorted. "I doubt they could do much."

"That's enough both of you." Cassandra cast a glare back at the two of them. Mahvir was an elf as was Sera and Solas. They were all formable opponents. Solas being an ancient elf was nothing to scoff at as well as the fact he now sought to destroy this world. Then there was Sera. Sera was a wild card archer and it was for the best to keep her on their side. Finally, Mahvir. Cassandra had seen him in far too many fights to ever underestimate him in battle even with only one arm. Sure he wouldn't have all of the capability he had with both, but there was no denying his skills as a rouge. He had fought with stealth, poisons, and the keen eye which almost made her think he was three steps ahead of the opponent they had been facing.

"Yes, ma'am." The seeker recruit bowed his head.

Silence fell over the group. The pass widened. Cassandra kicked her horse into a gallop. They were making good time even if the traces of the clan were growing scarce. She wanted to discover just who it was Mahvir believed could rival Solas as well as be unwelcome by the chantry.

Going behind Mahvir's back to learn this still felt wrong. The man had been a good friend and if he was true to his word as he had always been then this leader would be a good one. One Mahvir trusted, just had to be a good leader. Granted, Cassandra had never met the keeper of his clan or any of his friends back there. Especially the four he had spoken the most about when she could get him on the subject of his clan. He had spoken highly of the keeper, Deshanna, a man named Teren, another named Theon, and finally a huntress named Alaula. He also spoke of the very few children in the clan. Yet, it was never in detail. He had only spoken lightly about them and it was rare to get more than just glimpses into his life among the clan. It was as if he didn't spend too much time among them or so she had gathered from what little information he had given her.

Cassandra shook the thought from her. Mahvir was just Mahvir. There was no need to delve too much into what little she knew about him. He wasn't a threat to the chantry and she doubted he would ever be one.

Tracks started to appear in the snow, visible through the light dusting.

"We're getting close!" one of the seekers called over the wind.

Cassandra slowed her stead. Sure enough over the rise she could just make out flickering flames and an _araval_. There was no sign of other _aravel_ or even a halla to pull it. Nothing but the fire and one _aravel_.

Snow flew up around her legs as she dismounted.

This wasn't right. Her gaze skimmed the camp once more. Even from this distance she should have been able to see a few elves moving around the fire.

"What's wrong?" one of the recruits pulled up beside Cassandra.

"We go in on foot," Cassandra instructed. "Keep your weapons ready."

He nodded and dismounted. The younger recruit was only a heartbeat behind. Both pulled out their blades.

The only sound came from the slight clanking of armor and the crunch of snow beneath their boots as they moved into the small camp. There was no sign of life. Only the flickering flames and the _aravel_. No sign of elves. Nothing.

"It seems I lost the beat."

Cassandra whipped around. Her gaze snapped to an elf seated atop the _aravel_.

"I rather thought we would be followed by more than just three _shemlin_ , but it appears, as always, he was right." The female elf smiled down at them. " _Aneth ara_ , you must be Cassandra and her seekers. Mahvir has spoken highly of your tracking skill. He figured you would want to know more about the new leader and sent us with a request he had been passed by this leader."

There was something familiar about the way this woman was dressed. The armor spoke of an ancient elven design. The same armor Abelas had been wearing. Yet, it was different. Instead of golden in color, it was purple. The robes over it were black as the darkest night. The designs on her face mirrored those Mahvir had worn. As he had told Cassandra, they were markings to honor the creators. His honored the keeper of secrets, Dirthamen.

The woman had said "us." Cassandra's gaze flitted from her to the rest of the camp. Sure enough, two others appeared from the shadows of the _aravel_ also dressed in the same armor as the woman.

"Who are you?" Cassandra put her guard up. "Are you one of Solas's people?"

"My, I think I should take offense to being called one of Fen'Harel's people." The woman leapt down. "I am Eth, one of Dirthamen's sentinels. My master never agreed with Solas's methods and thus, we have sided against Fen'Harel and with those who seek to stop him."

"Even if he's trying to bring back your world." Cassandra's eyes narrowed. They were evenly matched number wise. However, if Abelas's group had taught her anything it was to never understate a sentinel.

"I held no attachment to Elvhenan," Eth informed her. "What about you two?" She smiled at her companions.

"None," the first male stated. He bowed his head to Cassandra. "It is an honor to meet you, Seeker Cassandra. From my understanding of it, you seek to protect your religious leader by uncovering truths and weeding out those who would corrupt the chantry from within. In many ways we are similar. I am called Enasalin."

"I am Hamin." The third member bowed his head.

There was no way a group of ancient elves wouldn't have sided with one from their same era. Cassandra didn't lower her blade. Her gaze flickered between the three ancient elves.

"I understand why you don't trust us, Seeker, but I assure you, my fellow sentinels of Dirthamen and I would never side with Fen'Harel. Our master would see merit in this world and would seek to defend it from the dread wolf."

"Why?" Cassandra asked as her grip tightened on her sword.

"Dirthamen wasn't a mage," Eth stated.

"But that is what _evanuris_ means," Cassandra growled.

"Yes, it does, however." Eth bowed her head. "Dirthamen had a power, I won't deny this. However, beyond this power he couldn't wield magic to even call it magic would be stretching what a single mage could achieve beyond the point of absurdity."

"We are off topic," Hamin growled.

Eth straightened. "Yes, yes," she conceded. "We come on behalf of Mahvir to request a meeting with a leader from the Free Marches, Ferelden, Orlais, and if they are willing, the Imperium."

"The inquisitor sent you?"

"Him and the leader of our side of the People," Eth informed her. "If you so desire, I would be willing to go with you in order to speak with the divine or another on their behalf."

Enasalin took a step forward. "Seeker, you no doubt came to find the identity of the leader who seeks to ally himself with your people. We intend to give you this information. All we ask is the chantry keeps an open mind to who he is and why our people would follow him." He bowed as well. "I would be honored to accompany you, your seekers, and Eth back to Orlais if it would mean we are step closer to stopping the dread wolf from destroying the world once more."

Hamin's jaw tightened. The other elf's eyes flashed, and he looked away from his two companions.

"You will find, from here, the trail to the clan goes cold," Enasalin informed her as he straightened. "We saw to it none could continue following them. Not even if you knew the full path and the destination they were heading towards."

Cassandra hesitated. She looked at her recruits. The Frostbaks were no place for them to split up. If there had been four of them… she bit back the urge to scowl. There were too few of them for her to have brought more than two. Even these two with how little training they had, were a risk.

"Very well." Cassandra lowered her sword and shield. "However, if either of you mean harm to any we meet," she let the threat hang.

Eth smiled and bowed. "Understood, Seeker. And my thanks." She turned to Hamin. "Return to the others when you're certain we've left."

Hamin scowled. After a long moment he bowed his head.

Cassandra led the way back to the horses. She kept a watchful eye on Eth and Enasalin. Neither made a move towards their weapons. Granted Eth had no weapons.

This wasn't at all the way it should have gone. There was no point in losing one of the recruits to the mountains when some of the information they were seeking was already in their grasp.

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Elvish:  
 _Eth_ – Safety  
 _Hamin_ – rest  
 _Enasalin_ – victory

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 **(Author's Notes:** I realized something, there are very few moments where the group asks about the Inquisitor's life. There are a few, but very few compared to how much prying the inquisitor does. **)**


	10. Into Denerim

**Unedited! Will be edited later.  
** **Reviews are greatly loved.  
Special thanks to Yasangigirl for continued reviews. **

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A soft sound outside the _aravel_ greeted Mahvir. He opened his eyes in time to see Hamin slip into the small space. As expected, he was alone. This meant Eth and Enagalin had gone with Cassandra instead of just handing them the message Mahvir had sent.

"Master." Hamin knelt and bowed his head. "Forgive me, I was unable to stop Eth and Enagalin from leaving," he spoke in elvish, head low.

"There is nothing to forgive, Hamin," Mahvir assured him. "I told Eth to do what she believed to be right. She did just that and Enasalin went with her to protect her."

Hamin bowed lower. "Is this why you sent Enasalin with us and placed Eth in charge?"

Mahvir rested his hand on Hamin's head. "There is no need to bow, my child. But, yes, it is. Eth understands how important it is for us to gain support among humans. She will do everything within her power to see to it both Divine Victoria and Empress Celene agree to the meeting this next winter."

"Will it be enough time?"

"We only have a few more cities to go to as well as another clan which will be meeting with us." Mahvir smiled at one of his oldest children. "You've my thanks for accompanying the two of them and returning to me, Hamin."

"Always, my master." Hamin looked at Mahvir, his eyes glistening. "I only regret we weren't there for you when you needed us the most."

"It is better this way. The eight of you are needed far more in this time than a thousand years ago." The eight of them would have died if they had been there during Andraste's Holy War against the Imperium. Especially Eth and Hamin. Eth had been the first child Mahvir had rescued. She had gentle nature despite the hardship she had faced as a child. Her skill in healing magic was all which matched the kindness of her heart. She had never learned spells which could bring harm to another and never would.

As the oldest of the group, many wanted her to be the head of Dirthamen's sentinels, but Eth had refused. She stated she would be useless if an attacker came after Mahvir. Useless.

Mahvir closed his eyes.

Eth was anything but useless. Her power in defensive and healing magic had always protected the temple. It was she who had placed the wards around the temple. She who had found nonaggressive ways to keep out intruders.

Out of all his children, Eth was the prefect choice to speak with Orlais and the divine over stopping Solas. Enasalin would ensure she came back safely.

"We'll be arriving soon." Mahvir opened his eyes and looked at Hamin. "Join the others before the keeper notices you came to me."

"Of course, master." Hamin bowed. He slipped from the _aravel_ as a shadow.

"I don't see the point to this," Deceit snapped her beak. She had been watching in silence from her spot on the other bed.

"Here I thought you would be pleased with the web of deception I had in place," Mahvir's tone was dry as he looked at the demon.

Deceit fluffed up. "Yes, well, I would be more pleased with the mortals bowing before you and begging for your forgiveness upon learning you're Dirthamen."

The _aravel_ jarred to a stop. Mahvir pulled himself to his feet and limped over to the exit.

"Deceit, scout around Denerim. See what threatens the alienage." His gaze moved to where Fear had nested in silence. "Fear, Deshanna would have landed. Guide her clan here."

"Slave driver." Deceit took off. She flew into the bright sky and vanished in the direction of Denerim.

Fear stood and shook himself. "Fine." He followed Deceit.

Mahvir half fell out of the _aravel_. The clan had stopped just out of sight from Deremin, close enough they could walk there in a few hours, but far enough away there was no threat of humans taking notice of the clan.

Hawen, Evania, Egeril, and Atisha were gathered in the center of the _aravels_. Mahvir moved to join them. The air was warmer here. Summer was close. It was little time to gather those who would be needed, convince the courts to meet and gather the armies they would need to battle Solas.

" _Hahren_ Shartan," Hawen greeted Mahvir and gave him a bow of his head. "I doubt it would be wise if too many of us enter Denerim, but I would rather not have you go in alone. Even if the king is more welcoming of our people than pervious rulers have been."

It was unlikely much would happen. Though, it was for the best there were more than just him going in. They needed to speak with the new elder of the alienage and arrange it so, if they agreed to side with them against Solas, the people could escape the city without too great of notice from the guards. Then there was getting one member out of the city without notice.

Mahvir's heart grew heavy. The image of the once playful, ever kind elf flickered through his mind. No longer the picture of a child. He took a deep breath and pushed back the images. He wasn't gone yet. And the alienage still respected him even if he was no longer their elder.

"Deshanna's clan should be arriving while we're in the alienage," Mahvir informed the group. "I sent her message when I arrived in your clan and she's been making her way towards Denerim since receiving it. One of my ravens has gone to lead her to this location."

"You expect we'll be in there for that long?" Hawn frowned.

Mahvir bowed his head. "If the alienage agrees to aid us, it will take time to smuggle all of them out and to this location without drawing the notice of the city guard."

Hawen placed his hand on his chin. " _Hahren_ Evania or I should remain here then to greet Keeper Deshanna."

"I wouldn't be much aid to those in the alienage," Evania pointed out. "Or to Shartan if there was trouble in the city. I can oversee matters in the clan while you're away, keeper." A soft smile spread over her features.

"Nitsa should also go then," Egeril stated. "If both our keeper and Shartan are going into the city, I would rather they be protected with our senior warrior than not have any protection at all."

"I will go as well," Atisha spoke from where she had been watching the conversation in silence."

Mahvir hesitated. Five of them would be too many, but still – his gaze rested on Egeril – another in the city would need her skills sooner rather than later. She would be the only way they could hope to get him out of the city without too much harm to him. There was no way Mahvir could leave him behind. Never.

"Healer Egeril, I have a selfish request to make." Mahvir met her gaze.

Egeril straightened. "Y-yes, Shartan."

"Instead of taking Nitsa," Mahvir started, "would you be willing to come?"

"Egeril has little combat experience," Hawen informed Mahvir. "If anything goes wrong, we would be at a disadvantage."

"Not necessarily." Mahvir turned his gaze on Hawen. "There are a few in the alienage who know how to defend themselves. However, the elders and very young there will have troubles escaping without the aid of a healer. A warrior wouldn't be of much use if one of the alienage needed a healer's aid instead." His heart fluttered. It wasn't just for one, Mahvir had to keep in mind the small children and other elderly in the alienage, few as they maybe. "Besides," – he smiled at Hawen – "if you are joining us, a mage and an ancient elvhen will be more than sufficient protection."

"A few of my bretheron know basic healing," Atisha informed the keeper. "While Eth was an actual healer and is now carrying a message from Shartan in the hopes the _shemlen_ will aid us, Hamin does know some healing magic as well."

A small breath escaped Hawen. "Very well," he conceded. He rubbed his eyes. " _Hahren_ Evania and I will speak with Nitsa and Hamin before we leave. I would rather not leave the clan unprotected and without guidance for too long."

"You needn't fear, keeper." Evania placed her hand on his arm. "Nitsa and I can watch over the clan. I know Dirthamen's sentinels will aid us." She turned her soft smile on Atisha.

"I need to speak with Vir and Hamin before we head out." Atisha nodded to them before she turned. She walked off in the direction of where the five remaining sentinels would be gathered.

Hawen bowed his head to Mahvir before he and Evania moved off to speak with the rest of the clan.

A small breath escaped Mahvir. It wouldn't be long now.

" _Hahren_."

Mahvir looked at Egeril.

"Why was it selfish to request I go with you? It doesn't sound like you made the request for a selfish reason, rather a logical one."

His gaze flickered away from her. Mahvir took a deep breath. She had a right to know. "It's not common knowledge, but I raised a child in the Denerim alienage."

She blinked. "You bounded?" she asked, using the Dalish term for marriage.

"No."

Egeril's lips pursed. Her eyes narrowed.

"His mother couldn't afford to keep him and thus abandoned him as a baby," Mahvir informed her. "During a visit to the alienage, I found him and took him, raising him in the alienage."

The look melted from Egeril's face and was replaced by a frowned. "When did this happen?"

His breath shuddered. "He was born during the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden."

"So, he could be anywhere between forty-two and one hundred." A small smile flitted over her face in the ghost of a laugh. The mere thought another could be in their hundreds outside of a select few, Mahvir included, did seem a little wild. Her smile melted away. "I take he's between those two ages?"

Mahvir bowed his head. "I've not seen my son in over twelve years, but from his last letter, I know he's still alive." A lie. Mahvir knew his son still lived because of his sight. "I fear his health maybe failing." His lips twitched. " _Ir abelas_ for making such a selfish request, Healer Egeril."

"It's not selfish," she assured him. "You're just worried about your son. I understand." Her touch was soft as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

The keeper and Atisha soon returned to Mahvir and Egeril. "We should get going before the sun sets," Hawen stated. "I would rather avoid trying to get into an alienage when the guards are more alert."

"Agreed." Mahvir bowed his head. He took the lead. The was slow thanks to him. The sun hovered closer to the horizon by the time they reached Denerim.

Not much had changed in the fourteen years since Mahvir had last been within the walls of the Ferelden capital. Deepening shadows cast an eerie glow in the dust filled market. Voices rose and fell as merchants and buyers haggled over prices. A dwarf shouted at a few of his costumers, face red with furry over.

"I've never been in a human city before," Egeril whispered as she looked around the market.

Hawen nodded beside her, his gaze flitting over the coward.

Atisha shifted as she tugged at her hood. "So many quick children," she muttered.

"Which way?" Hawen asked, voice only just loud enough to be heard by those around him.

Mahvir started off. The gates were open, and a few elves were crossing over the long bridge which separated the alienage from the rest of the city.

"It fells as if our city brethren are seen as more of a disease than a part of the city," Egeril whispered. She peered at those moving towards the far end of the bridge.

A few of the city elves noticed Hawen and Egeril. Whispers followed their group across the bridge. Those who lived in the alienage were trailing behind Mahvir's group, all eyes locked on the two dalish and Atisha.

As always, Mahvir seemed to slip from the minds of those around him. His clothing made him appear more one of the city elves than the robes and clothes the dalish wore or the armor and robes Atisha wore.

A red-haired woman stood at the far end of the bridge when they arrived. Her brown eyes narrowed as she inspected their group. "I heard a few dalish were here," her sharp voice sliced through the air as if her tongue were a bow and the arrows.

Mahvir limped forward. "It's a pleasure to meet you, _Hahren_ Shianni." He bowed his head to her.

Her eyes grew to slits, flashing in the dimming light of the sun. "Why are you here?"

Mahvir pulled out an old piece of parchment.

Shianni took the parchment and looked through it.

A small frown pulled at Hawen's lips. It was clear the keeper had thought Mahvir might give her one of the letters as he had with Hawen. This, however, was a message from Valendrian. It gave Mahvir a voice in the alienage and a right to see his son.

"What we've come to discuss should first be heard by you first, _hahren_." Mahvir gave her a slight bow.

Shianni regarded them for a moment before she nodded. "This way." She gestured for them to follow her. She led them through alienage to a familiar home.

A shiver raced through Mahvir. He took a deep breath, trying to keep the emotion from becoming visible to those around him. The home was smaller than those around it. Yet, many elves were gathered close.

"Come in," Shianni invited as she opened the door.

Mahvir took a deep breath and forced himself to limp across the threshold into the familiar space. It had changed over the years, though this was to be expected, given the home had passed from his ownership to his son's.

The first room was narrow with a door leading off into a small bedroom. At the far end of the house was a narrow staircase which lead to the second floor and a small room up there. Most of the space was taken by a combination of a family space and kitchen. A table was tucked against the wall close to the fire. A few vegetables were out, showing Shianni had been preparing the evening meal when the alienage had informed her of their arrival.

Seated in a chair not too far from the fire, was a wizened elf. It was all too easy to see him as a grinning child, showing Mahvir a new rock he had found or playing in the mud, face flushed with joy. The image flickered out and left Mahvir staring at what his son had become.

His heart tore at the sight of sightless eyes turning towards them. "Did you discover what was disturbing the others?" Valendrain asked. He pulled the thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders tighter with a crippled hand.

"We have visitors," the sternness melted from Shianni's voice as she moved over to the elder.

Atisha shifted as she glanced around the space.

"They needn't linger in the entryway." Valendrian smiled at them. His gnarled hand shook as he lifted and gestured to them. "Come in."

Air shuddered from Mahvir's lips. His grip tightened on the staff. His son was here, still alive. This was all that mattered, not the visions of how few months remained to Valendrian. Only the fact he had a chance to be with his son for a time, even if the time they had was to be marred by the coming war with Fen'Harel.

Shianni folded her arms across her chest. "I first have a question. Are you lot with that Fen characters recruiters."

"Fen characters?" Egeril asked with a soft snort of laughter.

Hawen scowled. "No. None of us hold any allengence to the dread wolf."

Atisha's eyes narrowed under her hood. "To even suggest such," the words hissed from her. She stiffened when Mahvir tore his eyes from Valendrian and gave the slightest shake of his head.

Shianni relaxed. "Sorry, but his recruiters came through a few months ago. Many left the alienage from his promise at a better life."

"We're here on a matter related to him," Hawen explained. "I assure you, the remainder of my clan would never side with Fen'Harel."

Well, not after the events which had transpired in the temple and Acacia recounting everything to her friends who had wanted to leave the clan. Mahvir's lips twitched. His gaze moved back to Valendrian who'd been listening in silence.

"It's getting late," Valendrian stated, "perhaps our guests would join use for dinner."

"I suppose we can discuss why you're here over dinner," Shianni agreed.

Hawen bowed his head. " _Ma serannas_ , Shianni." He smiled. "I am Keeper Hawen. This is the healer of my clan, Egeril." He gestured to Egeril.

" _Andaran atish'an_ ," Egeril greeted them.

"Dalish." Valendrian's wispy eyebrows rose. "Welcome." He gave them a soft smile. "And the last two members of your group?" His sightless gaze seemed to perce into Mahvir even if the gaze was meant for both him and Atisha.

"Atisha," Atisha stated. The word was sharp as if to hide the pain glittering in her eyes.

Mahvir's mouth had gone dry. Without sight there was no reason to accept Valendrian to recognize him. He took a deep breath. He moved towards Valendrian. Each step felt as if a weight had been tied to his legs. A lump grew in his throat.

"Valendrian," the name fell from dry lips as Mahvir stopped before his son. Mahvir knelt, his bad leg stretched at an angle so as not to be in the way. His free hand trembled as he reached for his son. His hand wrapped around on of Valendrian's crippled ones.

Shianni stiffened. "What—?" She moved as if to pull Mahvir away from Valendrian but stopped.

Valendrian's eyes widened. His hand lifted as if he were going to touch Mahvir but froze inches from Mahvir's face.

The staff slipped from Mahvir's hand. It clattered to the ground and rolled away. Mahvir gloved hand wrapped around Valendrian's gnarled. He guided the hand to his face.

The shock melted to a pained smile. "You came back."

"I promised you I would," Mahvir forced the words to remain steady.

Tears glittered in Valendrian's foggy eyes. His hand slipped from Mahvir's face. Mahvir's own strength was now reflected in Valendrian's grip as he pulled him into an awkward hug.

"You're home, father," the words fell from Valendrian as a breath.

*~ _Cassandra_ ~*

The journey back through the frostbacks had been far from an easy one. Eth and Enasalin had remained silent for the most part. They were far worse company than Solas had ever been. At least had spoken more when Cassandra had spoken with him. These two didn't seem too interested in talking.

"You served Dirthamen," Cassandra started when the group had stopped to make camp. They were only a day's ride from Val Royeaux. Given night was falling there was no point in trying to enter the city now, especially as exhausted as her recruits and the horses were. A night's rest would do the five of them some good.

The two elves sat across the fire from Cassandra. The two recruits were seated close to them and looked up from their merger meal.

"Yes," Enasalin replied, his gaze locked onto Cassandra.

Cassandra kept her gaze locked with his not daring to break eye contact lest it show the elf she would be intimidated by the sheer amount of knowledge reflected there. It was nothing compared to locking gazing with Solas or Mahvir. Granted, with Mahvir, there had been laughter and friendship reflected in his dark gaze.

"What was it like to serve an _evanuris_?" Cassandra asked.

Eth looked from her meal to Cassandra. "Our master is a kind, caring man," she informed Cassandra. "Whatever you've heard about him from Fen'Harel is a lie."

Cassandra let out a soft snort. "I doubt that. From what was uncovered, all of the elvhen gods were tyrants."

Both stiffened. Enasalin's eyes flashed in the fire light. "You only know what the dread wolf whispered to you," he growled. "None of the truths on what happened back then. Our master is a great man who would do anything if it meant protecting the children." His foot slipped out from under him, hand hovering as if he meant to draw his sword.

Cassandra's hand dropped to her sword hilt. Perhaps antagonizing him over Dirthamen was a mistake, but still, not everything she had learned about the evanuris could be a lie, right? Mahvir had stated, while they had been in Fen'Harel's temple, not all views on history could be truth. Much of history was affected by the opinion of the recorder. In this case, Fen'Harel.

Eth lifted her hand.

Enasalin growled under his breath. He shot a glare at Cassandra.

"Perhaps what Fen'Harel wrote was influenced by his own opinion, but next to that I only know the dalish creators were going to destroy the world anyway." Cassandra's hand dropped from her sword.

Eth gave Enasalin a warning look before she turned her softer gaze on Cassandra. "Forgive Enasalin and myself, Seeker, but what you must understand is our master," – her lips twitched into a smile – "no, forgive me, our father, Dirthamen, raised us. All his sentinels are children he rescued and raised. Though, not all children he raised stayed on as sentinels, many of us did."

Cassandra frowned. "So, you didn't have to drink from a well to bind yourselves to him?"

"No," Eth bowed her head. "We are loyal to him because he is our father." She lifted her head. "He took me from a slave pin where the owner pitted magically gifted slaves against one another. I have little memory of what happened back then, only the memory of fear and pain, then the feeling of complete safety when Dirthamen came."

So, Eth was a mage. Cassandra eyed the woman. She hadn't cast a single spell on their trip, not even to try to light a fire.

"You don't look like a mage," the older recruit stated.

Eth laughed. "Oh, and what is a mage supposed to look like, child?" Her eyes glittered.

"Flashy, like all the other ones I've met." He folded his arms across his chest.

This only made Eth laugh again. "I see." Her hand dropped from her mouth. Eyes still alight with laughter. "I don't like being flashy or spells which could bring another harm. Rather I enjoy healing and creating barriers. Anything which will protect my father and my younger siblings from harm."

"What about you? Are you a mage?" the younger recruit demanded as he looked at Enasalin.

Enasalin narrowed his eyes.

"He can use the same amount of magic as any elvhen from our time," Eth informed them. "But Enasalin is a warrior, first and foremost."

"I see." Cassandra remembered when Solas had gotten back at Sera by threatening to teach her magic. Perhaps the threat had held more truth than she had originally believed. It was worth checking. "So, all ancient elves knew magic or could learn it?"

"More or less." Eth kept her gaze locked with Cassandra.

"Why would ancient elves want to help us?" the young recruit asked. "Don't you fear dying or something like that?"

A soft smile appeared on Eth. Her eyes softened. "Understand, I am old. I rather like the idea of entering uthenera to never wake again. It would be far better than to watch children grow old and pass before my eyes over and over again with no power to stop it."

Cassandra couldn't picture what this was like. Yet – her grip tightened around her bawl – she did understand not wanting to watch others die. So many of her friends had passed. So much had been lost in resent years, to not have to watch it all crumble again… Perhaps she could understand where Eth was coming from. In the same instance, there was so much yet to be rebuilt, Cassandra would continue to push forward until the seekers stood once more and beyond if she had to.

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** I just spent some time trying to figure out just how old Valendrian is. He had to be born during the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden because during Origins he looked to be in his sixties if not older. Orlais occupied Ferelden from around 8:44 Blessed to 9:2 Dragon this is about seventy-eight years of occupation. Elves still live longer than humans, but the year is now 9:44 Dragon. So, if he was born in 8:44 Blessed Valendrian would be one hundred years old, which is way too old. Thus, I am thinking he's closer to seventy-two or ninetyish in age. Seventy-two seems to be a low end for him and is assuming he was sixty during Origins.

It will eventually come up, but my warden was dalish which is why Valendrian is still in the alienage.

So, with the arrival of clan Lavellan, there is no Nimwen or other such characters who made up the clan outside of Deshanna (cannon character), Teren and Theon who were both my OCs in the clan. Milly, Nimwen, Sin, and many other characters are Herenya's OCs. **)**


	11. Child of Shartan

**Unedited! Will be edited later.  
** **Reviews are greatly loved.**

* * *

Shianni gaped. "What?!" The question destroyed the stunned silence in the room as if it had been a bottle shattering against the floor.

Mahvir tore his gaze from his son.

The younger elf stood with her mouth open, eyes wide, as her gaze flickered back and forth between Mahvir and Valendrian.

Behind her, Hawen's eyes mirrored Shianni's. He glanced at Shianni before returning his gaze to Mahvir. He took a deep breath, letting the shock dissolve from his features.

"Forgive me, Elder Valendrian, but what?" she repeated. "How can this man be your father? He looks to be in his twenties." Shianni gestured at Mahvir as if Valendrian could see the motion.

Hawen frowned and glanced at Egeril, who, alongside Atisha, didn't look shocked at the news. It followed Atisha wouldn't be. She was one of Mahvir's children as well.

Hawen's eyes narrowed a little. He looked at Mahvir.

Mahvir bowed his head to the keeper.

"Perhaps, it has something to do with him being Shartan," Hawen stated.

A soft snort came from Shianni. "Right? And I'm Andraste."

Hawen let out a small breath. He pulled the letter Mahvir had given him out of his robes. "This might change your mind." The keeper held out the letter to Shianni.

A small frown flickered at the corner of her lips as she took the letter. She blinked as her eyes fell over the faded lettering on the ancient parchment. Her hand went to mouth as she continued to read the letter.

"What?" the word fell from her as a shuttered breath.

Tears glittered in her eyes.

"It can't be." Shianni looked at him, eyes wide. The color had drained from her face. "You're," – her hand shook as she pointed at him – "you're really Shartan?"

Mahvir bowed his head. "I am."

"That," Shianni stared at him. "How?" She took a deep breath. "How are you still alive? You should've died long ago."

An ach settled into Mahvir's chest. "That," the words fled him as a breath, "is the question."

"You don't know?" Shianni pressed.

"Shianni." Valendrian's voice trembled.

Shianni glanced at Valendrian. "I'll get dinner ready."

"Would you like some help?" Egeril stepped forward.

"S-sure," Shianni stammered.

Egeril joined Shianni at the table.

"Sorry there's no meat."

A small laugh escaped Egeril. "We don't always have meat in the clan either. It depends on if the hunters can bring any back. Not all the hunts are successful."

" _Hahren_ ," Hawen moved further into the room, "if I may, how is he your son?"

Mahvir used the chair to stand. "For the short version, I found Valendrian when he was baby and raised him."

" _Ma serannas_." Hawen turned his attention to Shianni. "Is there anything you would like help with?"

"Yes." Shianni had moved the pot so it was over the fire while Egeril was finishing cleaning off the table. "The table needs to be moved into the center of the room." She flushed. "There's too many of us to fit around it otherwise."

Mahvir retrieved his staff. "Would you like my aid as well?" The offer was more to be polite. There was no way any of them would let him help. Still, the table needed two people to move. Not that Mahvir could ever hope to lift the table. Even if he used time to aid in his strength or there were four others helping him. Such a weight was forever beyond his ability to lift. It would only lead to him injuring himself or those who attempted to help him.

Shianni whipped around. White rimmed her eyes.

Hawen shook his head.

"I will help." Atisha rushed forward. Her gaze lingered on Mahvir before she moved to the other side of the wooden table from Hawn.

Useless.

Mahvir took a deep breath.

No. It wasn't so much uselessness. More the fact of who he was and how the others viewed him. To the city and Dalish he was Shartan, the one who had led them through the Andraste's Holy War. He was the liberator.

What had he liberated his people from?

Mahvir watched as Egeril and Shianni set the table.

His grip tightened around the staff.

This was better. Far better than slave pens. Yet, despite their little freedom, despite what they had achieved, not all his people were free.

Solas wasn't in the right to destroy the world. Elvhenan wasn't the answer. There was no going back. Mahvir would never make such a choice. No matter how many—

His gaze slid to Valendrain.

No matter how many children he lost through t he centuries. Time should march forward, not reset.

"All right." Shianni straightened. She had helped Valendrian over to the table. "Dinner is ready."

Six bowls were set around the table with the simple stew placed in the center.

Mahvir joined them at the table beside Valendrian and across from Hawen.

"Um," Shianni started. "I don't know how meals done in the Dalish clans but we thank the Maker before eating."

"We generally thank Andruil for a good hunt and Sylaise for hearth and meal," Hawen explained.

Mahvir bowed his head to Shianni. "It's your and Valendrian's home."

Shianni bowed her head. "Maker, thank you for the food before us, and another day. Amen." She looked up. She ladled some of the soup into her bowl.

The others followed suit.

"You said you wanted to talk about what's going on with our people," Shianni started. Her gaze shifted away from Mahvir a heartbeat after landing on him. She stirred her bowl.

"Yes," Mahvir confirmed. "Fen'Harel has started to gather many of the People under him under the pretense of returning Elvhenan to the world. However, what the People don't know is in order to achieve this, Fen'Harel has to destroy this world."

The clatter of wood hitting wood filled his ears.

Shianni gaped. "He's lying to us?"

"Yes and no." Mahvir looked at those gathered around the table. "In order for the world Elvhenan resided in he has to tear down the Veil. Which in turn means many spirits will shatter and turn to demons. This would cause a cascading effect which would destroy many lives. Very few would survive. Much as with the danger the Inquisition faced with the breach."

Hawen frowned. "Why would he have aided the Inquisition if his goal was the tear down the Veil to begin with?"

"I doubt he wanted a darkspawn as a god," Mahvir stated. A small smile flickered over his lips.

"And you aim to stop him?" Shianni let out a breath, her gaze dropping to her soup. "Many have already joined him. I doubt this is different in alienage. Even if you gathered those of us here and across the rest of Theadas to your cause, our numbers wouldn't match his."

"This is true." Mahvir bowed his head. "Yet, this world is not just ours. We share it with humans, dwarves, and qunari alike."

Atisha let out a snort.

Egirel gglanced at the ancient. "Would the humans help us?"

"If the _shemlen_ had sense they would." Atisha's eyes flashed from under hood.

Shianni let out a small breath. "If we don't fight and your group lost, we would still end up losing our homes and loved ones, wouldn't we?" She looked up. "If my people agree, how do you plan on getting everyone out?" Her gaze flickered to Valendrian.

"We would have to leave in waves," Mahvir informed her. "A few of the able would go with the elders and children. I would send Egirel in that group as well." He bowed his head to the healer. "The morning would be the best time for the waves to happen in as the guards expect us to be heading to work or out to the market."

Shianni nodded. "Yes, that makes sense."

"I was planning four—"

"Three," Hawen cut Mahvir off. His gaze intense as he looked at Mahvir. "No offense, _hahren_ , but I would rather you didn't lead a wave."

Mahvir bowed his head. His heart ached. It was true enough he would slow the group. Yet, he was still far from useless.

It didn't matter. What mattered was getting those from the alienage out and to the clan safely.

"Are there any here who know how to fight?" Egirel asked.

"No," Shianni confessed. "We know a few basics, but beyond this," she trailed off.

"We can train them," Mahvir pointed out.

Hawen nodded. "The problem becomes getting everyone out. If we're attacked by the guard," he trailed off."

"The groups can trickle out throughout the day. Closer to sunset we will have to stop and perhaps a few of the able bodied could return to keep the illusion nothing is going on. Everyone will have to leave in the first wave of the third day." Mahvir locked gazes with Hawen. "I should be in the final wave."

Hawen opened his mouth.

"I will join him," Atisha cut off the keeper from arguing or even offering to go in the final wave. Atisha looked at Mahvir, her eyes narrowed a little and head tilted to the side.

Mahvir bowed his head to her. It was more than just a thankful gesture. If he needed to use his time manipulation to get everyone out it would keep the secret of his past from the clans just a little a longer.

"The sentinels will spread out between the clan and the entrance to the city throughout the day," Atisha continued. "Once the people are out, they could ensure none tried to stop us."

"Sentinels?" Shianni frowned.

"Until we know how many are willing to come, this is for the best," Mahvir agreed. "We can't think of how to continue dividing the groups until tomorrow."

"Agreed." Hawen finished his soup. " _Ma serannas_ for the meal."

Shianni blinked and nodded to Hawen.

The meal passed with little else spoken.

"Shianni," Valendrian started as she picked up his bowl. "Can you retrieve a wrapped package from the locked chest upstairs." He held out a warn key.

A shiver raced through Mahvir. This wasn't necessary. He swallowed the urge to speak. There would be no point in it. What was done was done.

"The one you never wanted anyone to touch?" Shianni paused in gathering the dishes.

"Yes, that one." A soft smile crinkled his face, his eyes sparking.

She nodded and set down the bowls near a basin of water. "All right." She took the key and headed up the stairs. Wood creaked overhead.

Hawen tracked the sound, eyes narrowed.

Thumbs followed the pause in the creaking. Shianni appeared a heartbeat later, holding a long thin, cloth.

"Give it to Shartan." Valendrian nodded in Mahvir's direction.

Shianni handed him the cloth.

Mahvir slid a carved, wooden cane from the cloth.

"It's to replace the one I broke as a child," Valendrian informed him.

A laugh escaped Mahvir. "You mean the one you used to pretend was a sword?"

"Yes, that one."

"You used to pretend a staff was a sword?" Shianni frowned. "But I didn't think you knew swordplay."

"I don't."

"Then why?" Egirel asked.

"I wanted nothing more as a child than to be a part of Shartan's army, taking back a homeland for my people," Valendrian explained. His gaze softened, smile almost pained. "Though such dreams were heritical ideals back then. I believe Shartan has only just started to be accepted once more among the humans as someone who existed." He looked towards Mahvir. "Not that your people ever doubted your existence."

Mahvir bowed his head to his son. "I know."

*~ _Cassandra_ ~*

A breath escaped Cassandra.

This wasn't going to be easy. She grimaced. Not much in life ever was. Her gaze flickered to the two ancient elves as they followed behind her.

There would be enough protection around the divine and the divine was able to protect herself. Still, they were inviting ancient elves into the heart of the chantry. One of their kind was seeking to destroy this very world. One she had once trusted.

Her lips twitched.

This didn't mean all of them were bad people. Cassandra wasn't going to let her guard down among any of the ancient elves. Least of two who seemed earnest in their desire to help. This didn't mean they wouldn't turn on them as Solas had or eliminate the fact they could have been sent by Solas and not Mahvir.

Cassandra shoved the thoughts aside. So far, they had done nothing to show they'd been sent by Solas. Neither had his spies within the Inquisition proper, however. She would just have to believe they had been sent by Mahvir for now.

"Divine Victoria," – Cassandra knocked on the door – "I brought the elves I spoke of in my last message."

"Bring them in."

Cassandra led the way into the divine's office.

Eth looked around as she and Enasalin entered.

Eth bowed her head to the divine. "My thanks for seeing us on such short notice, Divine Victoria." She straightened. "I am Eth, a member of Dirthamen's sentinels. This is Enasalin, a fellow sentinel. We come on behalf of both the leader of a group who seeks to stand in Fen'Harel's path and a friend of yours, Mahvir."

Leliana nodded and gestured for them to be seated. "I admit to knowing little about this leader." A soft smile played at the edge of lips. A smile which didn't reach her eyes.

"You must understand Mahvir and our leader believed it wiser to inform you with a member of their group rather than letting your spies learn of who he is. Our leader believes it will help start a good relation between them and the chantry as what we seek falls in line with what you also seek." Eth returned Leliana's smile. Her eyes soft.

"And who is your leader?" Cassandra demanded. This was pointless, dancing around the facts while the two played with words. It would get them nowhere.

Eth bowed her head. "Shartan."

All heat drained from the room. Ringing filled Cassandra's ears. There was no way.

"What?" Leliana laughed. "Sorry, but that's impossible. Shartan was burned alongside Andraste at the end of the holy war against the imperium."

"There's no way he could have survived the fire," Cassandra added. "Let alone a thousand years after."

Eth just smiled.

"He must be an imposter, using the name to unite the elves."

"I will let you determine what he is when he arrives," Eth stated. "He and those he's gathered will be arriving in just under a year. He sent a request for you to gather those willing to listen, the empress, someone from Ferelden, if you can someone from the Free Marches and Imperium. What is happening involves all nations and people of our world." Eth bowed her head once more. "He seeks only an audience. If for not other reason than to confirm who he really is."

Cassandra shook her head. There was just no way Andraste's champion could still be alive. None.

* * *

 **(Author's Notes:** Going to try to get on a weekly schedule for this story. We'll see if I can manage it. **)**


	12. First Wave

**Thank you to everyone who has been patient with this story.  
** **Unedited! Will be edited later.  
** **Reviews are greatly loved.**

* * *

The scent of rain clung to the early morning air. A fine mist shifted over the ground surrounding the vhenadahl. The mist parted as the people gathered in the pre-dawn light to hear their hahren's words.

"Yesterday we had four guests enter our home," Shianni started. "One among them is Shartan."

Whispers drifted through the air, rising in volume until they became a chattering buzz. A few of the people stood on the tips of their toes to get a good look at their group.

"Which could it be?"

"Who is Shartan?

"But that's impossible. Shartan died a thousand years ago."

"It's impossible!" The shout was taken up through the crowd.

"I've seen proof!" Shianni shouted to make herself heard over the rising clamor. "He is Shartan and he's very much alive!"

Mahvir took a deep breath. He stepped forward.

A hush fell over the assembled crowd.

"Whether you believe who I am or not, the fact remains our people titter on the edge of existence," he started. His voice carried through the damp air even as his lungs strained for air. "The dread wolf has already passed through, taking many of you with him. Yet, what he seeks will only be the death of our people and our world. The hand dealt us has been a harsh one, but if we don't stand against him, then who will? If we don't act, then our families and loved ones will suffer a fate far worse than being forced as human servants or slaves or to wander the wilderness looking for what remains of our lost heritage." His words grew softer as air fled his tightening lungs.

He forced air through closing airways. A rasping sound greeted his ears. He needed to continue.

Mahvir kept his back straight. "Who I am or was does matter, but in the now what matters far more is if you're willing to act to save our world."

A hush filled the air broken only the slightest shifting of cloth. The people glanced at one another.

One stepped forward. "Are you asking we leave everything behind like the dread wolf's people did?"

Mahvir bowed his head. "Not everything, take what you must. Let me ask you this, is the life of our people of this very world more valuable than a handful of gold?" He looked at the younger elf. "Our people haven't lost everything," he continued. "It's true we have no homeland, a mixture of our own folly and human greed lost us the Dales and before this Elvhenan. However, our people survived both falls. We are strong and if we unite, we can push forward. There is no turning back time. No reviving either Elvhenan or the Dales. However, we can build anew. We can show our worth to the humans by acting to stop another of our people from destroying everything." He gasped. A little more. He forced air into his lungs.

Curse this weather.

Mahvir leveled his gaze and looked over the crowd of on lookers. "I know what I ask is a lot, but it is all I am asking. To come and fight for our people, for the world we call home."

The people glanced at one another.

"You have until the time to leave for work to decide." Shianni stepped to Mahvir's side.

"There's nothing to decide." Another of the people stepped forward. "If you really are Shartan, then I know what my choice is. I'll follow you!"

Several nodded and stepped up to the first. One by one the people moved in to join them. Soon what remained of the alienage was gathered around Shianni and Mahvir in a tight crescent.

"My thanks." Mahvir bowed his head.

"How are we going to leave the city? I doubt the guards will just let all of us leave." A woman looked at her children, a frown pulling at early lines on her face.

"We are going to be break into groups." Hawen stepped forward. "Several will trickle out throughout one day. The first day will consent of elders and children. The healer of my clan will return to the city to take each group for the first day with her."

"The groups will stagger throughout the day starting around the time we would leave for work and the last group will leave in the evening when some of us would head for the market," Shianni continued. "Tomorrow, a few of the able bodied will head out with Keeper Hawen." She bowed her head.

"The most able among us will stay for the final day. On the final day we must leave all at once," Mahvir finished. "I will be apart of this group. Understand it will be the one which is the most likely to be noticed by the city guard."

"We will break you into groups by age and how able you are," Shianni informed. "However, I would appreciate if anyone would volunteer for Shartan's group."

"Why would Shartan lead the most dangerous wave?" A young man stepped forward. He appeared to be no older than his late teens. "I mean no disrespect, but if it's the most dangerous wave, then why would he go? Shouldn't he go with the elders?" His gaze flickered down Mahvir's form, brow furled.

Mahvir's grip tightened on his staff.

"He isn't leading it alone." Shianni gestured towards Atisha.

"Still," the boy kept his gaze on Mahvir as he trailed off. He took a deep breath, drawing himself up to his full height. "He looks like he needs the cane to walk and his voice is too soft like that of an elder who spent too long breathing in smoke."

A few murmured their agreements.

Cold wrapped around Mahvir. If he wasn't part of the last group, it would fail or there would be bloodshed between humans and elvhen. This had to be avoided.

"If you doubt my ability to protect the people, then you're welcome to test it." Mahvir looked at the boy before his gaze skimmed the crowd. "Any of you are. I know you doubt who I am."

"If you are Shartan, then can you still fight, even like that?" asked one of the older women. She bowed her head. "I mean no disrespect, but Shartan was said to be Andraste's champion. He would have been a skilled fighter, not a," she broke off, biting her lip, gaze down cast.

"Cripple," Mahvir finished for her.

She nodded.

Hawen's eyes flashed. "What do you know of Shartan's fate at the end of the war?" the keeper demanded.

"Keeper." Mahvir held up his hand. "It's fine. They've a right to question me."

"We know Andraste was burned and killed by the imperium," growled the boy. "Shartan is depicted as standing by and watching as it happens." His eyes narrowed. "You did nothing to save the prophet."

Hawen snarled. "You know nothing of our history!"

"Keeper, please." Mahvir turned his gaze back to the young man and those speaking their agreement. "It is true this is how the chantry tells it."

"Then you did do nothing?" the woman gasped. Her hands over her mouth as her eyes widened.

"No, I didn't do nothing," Mahvir assured her. "What the chantry did was paint the image of Andraste as being the only one to burn that day." He let his son's cane fall to it was up against his hip. He removed his gloves to reveal the burn scar and rolled the sleeve of his left arm just passed the elbow. He unraveled the scarf from around his neck. "This burn covers about half my body," Mahvir told them holding up his hands so all could see. "The betrayal didn't just catch Andraste, but all her generals, all those of high rank within her army. The imperium wanted to make an example out all of us."

Silence broken only by the soft whisper of the wind washed over the group.

"My bindings were looser than the other generals," Mahvir lied. He had aged them let them snap. While all eyes were on Andraste he had fallen from the fire, half his body burning. "I broke free and tried to reach her." He lifted his right hand and rolled down the sleeve to reveal it cover his hand wrist as a glove. "But it was already too late." His voice shook. "She had been stabbed." His eyes narrowed. "The chantry paints me as someone to be forgotten. Not an elf, not her champion, just a human."

Hawen rested his hand on Mahvir's shoulder. "Our children are taught this story and the story of the fall of the Dales from a young age," Hawen informed them. "You may have forgotten, but we know Shartan speaks the truth." His eyes softened, brow furling. "I wish you hadn't forgotten. That our history was as much known to you as it is to us dalish."

The boy shifted. His gaze dropped to the ground. "I didn't know," he whispered. "You suffered the same fate as the prophet, but then how did you escape?"

Mahvir closed his eyes. "Those moments are blurred, almost forgotten." It had been Fear and Deceit. They had carried him away, screaming as he tried to get at Andraste. She had been beyond aid. Nothing short of resetting time would have been able to save her from the fate which had befallen her. "As for how I've lived so long, I don't know. It could very well be a side effect of experiments done on me when I was a child."

"But can you still fight?" the boy broke the long silence.

Mahvir gestured for him to step forward.

He looked around before doing so.

"Come at me as if you mean to kill me."

The boy blinked and shifted. "But," he protested.

"Don't worry."

He nodded and went into a loose, unbalanced stance, fists raised. He leapt towards Mahvir.

Mahvir side stepped and struck him the back with his cane.

The boy gasped. He slammed into the ground with a dull thump.

"My," Mahvir smiled, holding back laughter, "that was the worst attempt to kill someone I've seen in a long time."

The boy stood, face and ears bright red.

He lunged.

Mahvir stepped around him once more.

"That's enough." Hawen caught the boy. "I believe Shartan has proven the point."

"I." The boy's head dropped. He nodded to Shianni and Hawen before returning to his place among the others.

Silence followed this, broken only by a few speaking in hushed tones.

"Are going to leave or stay?" Shianni broke the long silence.

"Leave," one voice rose above the clearing mist. It was joined by others before soon every voice made it clear everyone agreed they would be leaving.

"Here is what we'll do for today," Mahvir turned back to the people. "Elders will leave in the first wave for heading out of the city. During this time those able bodied will be heading to a normal day of work. Keep quiet to what is going on. Mothers' and children will follow in the wave after. Egeril will have returned in time for it appear you were heading for the market with your children for food and other items."

"Tomorrow I will take two groups to the clan," Hawen picked up. "Both at the same time. A few will need to return to sell the fact nothing is going on as well as continue with normal work for the day."

"Mainly those employed by the nobility, whose absence will be felt," Mahvir told them. "On the final day those few who remain will come with Atisha and myself all at once.

"A few will need to also volunteer to return on the second day to help sell the fact nothing is wrong and bolster the number of those heading out with Shartan." Hawen nodded to him.

"For now, gather the elders and mothers get your children. We will see the numbers and decide how best to split the groups for today," Mahvir finished. "Also, gather your belongings you wish to take with you. Keep it light. Bring only what's needed and previsions." Mahvir bowed his head to them. "My thanks."

Shianni moved to speak with a few of the people while Mahvir started back to her home.

"I don't know about this," Egeril whispered beside him. "It still feels like we're placing far too much on you for the final day."

"Atisha will be with me." Mahvir gestured towards the sentinel. "If anything goes wrong, she can make up for my weaknesses."

"But will you leave him?" Egirel's eye widened.

"Never." Atisha's eyes flashed in the dim light of dawn.

The healer smiled. " _Ma serannas_." She bowed to the sentinel. "I should see to helping gather the elders." She left them.

A small breath fled Mahvir. The little air strained through his airways. It was for the best to get in doors. He led the way into Valendrian's home. His son was seated near the fire, his eyes locked on them and a small smile on his face.

"I take it the other's saw reason?" Valendrian asked.

"It took a little, but, yes, the people are leaving over the next three days," Mahvir informed him.

Valendrian's eyes softened, his gaze moving towards the fire. "I understand their hesitation. We've worked hard to make this our home. Still, not many could pass up the chance to fight beside you."

Mahvir's lips twitched. "Including yourself."

A small laugh escaped Valendrian. The laugh broke into a coughing fit. He straightened. "If I was younger, I would have gladly stood beside you, father."

Mahvir bowed his head. An ache pierced his heart. So little time remained to Valendrian, was it really right to take him from here?

"I would still gladly stand by you," Valendrian assured him as if he had the ability to read Mahvir's mind or could see his face. "I might not be able to fight, but what I can do, I will for our people."

Mahvir limped over to Valendrian. He placed his hand on Valendrian's wizened shoulder. "My thanks, my son."

Valendrian's hand touched Mahvir's. The grip was weak, as weak as Mahvir's, as his son's fingers wrapped around Mahvir's. There had been a time Valendrian had the strength to do anything he set his mind to. And now…

It was best not to dwell on such matters. Valendrian was old, but still with them, still willing to help his people. This was all that mattered. Not what future awaited him. Not the fact he would pass far from his home or what would happen after he passed and the fact he was Mahvir's son. He was still strong in the here and now. Strong enough in will and spirit to do what was needed for his people.

The door opened.

"The other elders are gathering," Egeril informed them. "I've asked a few mothers to come as well to help those who can't walk fast." Her gaze fell to Valendrian. "Are you ready, _hahren_?"

"One moment." Valendrian turned his sightless gaze on Mahvir. "Promise me we will see one another in two days time."

"I promise." It would be true no matter what lay ahead of them.

Egeril stepped forward. She helped Valendrian to his feet and let him use her for support as they moved from the home.

All which was left was to wait. Mahvir closed his eyes. This day and the next would see little notice from the guards. It was the final day which would be noticed.

At least, by then the mothers, their children, and the elders would have made it safely back to the camp. It would only be the able bodied who remained. Everything was going as he had seen it.

If Mahvir didn't have this curse, would he have made another plan? Leaving all at once would have drawn the attention of the guard immediately. Leaving tomorrow with how many remained would have done the same. He knew this was the only way. And if he didn't have his so called gift, so many more would have been lost in the attempt to escape, to save their world from the fate Solas would wrought upon them.

If he didn't have it, Mahvir would be dead.

A smile pulled at his lips. His heart flickering.

Death.

Something far beyond his reach. Even if he did manage it to die, his gift would never allow it to last. A heartbeat, two even and then time would reverse and his mind would be shot back to the past. An endless loop if he fell over and over again. Never stopping, never ending until he broke it for everyone else's sake.

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 **(Author's Notes:** Sorry this is late compared to last week. Given I always have Friday off, I decided to move the updates to Saturday, because then I know I have a day to work on the chapter for certain. **)**


	13. Day Three

**Unedited! Will be edited later.  
** **Reviews are greatly loved.**

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Shartan?

Cassandra clasped her hands, eyes locked on the stain glass windows. There was no way he could have survived over a thousand years let alone the fire which had seen a magister end the prophet Andraste. There was little proof Shartan had even been one person. Scholars had been locked in a heated debate over this matter of years. There was no proof beyond one book Shartan was a single elf. One book didn't prove anything as anyone could have used the name back then or it could have even been written by many.

Then there was the fact this elf who sought to stand in Solas's way had dared take up a name until recently hadn't been uttered in the Chantry. Not after the fall of the Dales. It had been blasphemy until Leliana had reinstated the Canticle of Sharan. A matter many saw as wrong. Victoria had made many controversial decisions since becoming Divine. When she had made this one…

Cassandra rubbed her eyes.

Mahvir was many things, but she had believed him less a fool than he was proving now. Yes, one legend could counter act the other. Still, this was far from the way to do it. If, by some miracle this man really was Shartan, it begged the questions to how he had made it from the fire and lived for the last thousand years, especially how he had escaped the notice of the chantry.

"Shartan was an ally to Andraste," Leliana's voice cut through the silence of the empty pews.

Cassandra looked at the Divine out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze was locked on the stain glass as Cassandra's had been moments before.

"Her champion." A small breath escaped the Divine. "Still, that was over a thousand years ago. We haven't been so kind to his people in the past eight hundred years."

"You heard of the scrolls we recovered. The war which lost the elves Dales held fault on both sides." Though mainly the elves side. Cassandra shook her head. Not all elves were bad people. Mahvir, for one, was far from it. And yet he had sided with Shartan.

Leliana bowed her head.

"Then there's the fact we stripped him from the chant, burned his books, and made it heresy to even mention him," Cassandra continued.

"True." A small breath escaped Leliana. "Even the strides I've taken recently might not make him a friend to us." A hallow laugh escaped her. "Assuming he is the real Shartan and not one of the elves who took up the name."

If he was, then what? It was an impossibility. There was no way Shartan had lived where the prophet had been slain.

"There's only one way to find out. We take up his offer on meeting with him in a year."

"It would get him here to see who he really is," Cassandra agreed.

"We will gather only those he requested. If need be we can also summon the other nations but for now, this will be all." Leliana smiled. "It falls close enough to when the Inquisition was going to get together, Dorian might want to join us as representative to the Imperium."

Cassandra grunted. Her gaze moved back to the stain glass.

There was no way this Shartan was the one who had fought beside Andraste. None.

"All right." Cassandra stood. There was much to do in what little time was given them.

Perhaps those Shartan, or whatever his real name was, had requested who would only come to see if who he really was. This might be what he was beating on. To gather the leaders to see if his claims were truth or lie.

*~ _Mahvir_ ~*

A soft light filled the small space Mahvir had taken to sleep in. He turned to see the crystal Dorian had given him was glowing. He hesitated and glanced at the thin walls of Valendrian's home. Only Shianni was left in the home given two days ago today Valendrian had left with the other elders, the children, and their mothers.

Mahvir lifted the crystal. "Morning, Dorian."

"I had feared you'd be asleep," Dorian's voice came through the crystal, clear and full of its normal vibrant exuberances. "Missed hearing my voice that much."

A small laugh escaped Mahvir. "Of course, my friend, how could I not?"

"I know right?"

"How goes the matter we discussed the last time we spoke?" Mahvir changed the subject.

A small breath escaped Dorian. "One day at a time," he replied. "I know I make it look easy, but still," a breath cut off the reset of Dorian's sentience.

"One day at a time is all any of us can do, trying to leap forward beyond a day would be utter madness."

Dorian laughed. "You mean like when we leapt through time the last time and saw the world destroyed."

"Yes, such as then." Mahvir shivered. If only Solas had seen what the world would look like rejoined with the Fade as Dorian had.

It wouldn't matter, not now. There was no showing him, no way to break through his suborn streak. Only trying to stop him to save this world and its people, all peoples from the fate which Solas believed would undo his greatest "mistake."

"This wasn't what I wanted to discuss today, though I could use your advice on the matter as well." The soft rustle of clothing sounded from other side. "I just got word from the Chantry of Andraste about some elf taking up the name Shartan."

That had been fast. Granted, there were more than likely spies placed into the Chantry of Andraste from the Imperial Chantry. Ha, more than likely, more like truth. The two sides had never seen eye to eye despite following the faith which almost aligned. The Imperial Chantry was the older of the two, the one which had been founded right after the magister had killed Andraste rather than watching her burn.

Flames flickered before Mahvir's eyes.

He reached out, watching as blood flowed and mixed with red hair set aflame.

She was gone.

Mahvir closed his eyes. It was in the past. There was no undoing it, no point in dwelling on it. Nothing.

"Does the Imperial Divine truly see the Chantry of Andraste as that much of a threat," Mahvir asked, "that he sends spies to see what they're up to?"

Dorian huffed. "You should know the two sides don't recognize one another as being the real chantry, my friend. The problem is this elf taking that name."

Mahvir smiled.

"You might not know this, it's kept hushed in the south from some odd reason, but all her generals, including her champion, were put to the pyre beside her. In all our history books, Shartan was burned alive. This elf can not be him."

"I'm aware of the history, Dorian. All Dalish are taught the fate of Shartan. The Chantry of Andraste may have stripped what happened to him and all his acts from history and the Chant of Light, but not the Dalish. Keep in mind he is a large part of elvhen history."

"So, you know this elf is an imposter then?"

Mahvir bowed his head. "And if he's not? If he has presented proof of him being Shartan, then what?"

"Mahvir," Dorian's voice hardened, "this isn't a possibility. Even if he did escape the fire, he'd be long dead by now."

Mahvir closed his eye. "Perhaps." He took a deep breath. "Dorian, there is a chance Leliana will reach out to you."

"Hmm?"

"Shartan—"

A grunt cut off Mahvir.

"—Or the imposter, if you would rather, has requested a meeting with a few nations in about a year's time. I've no doubt she will reach out to you given this is about when the Inquisition is going to try to get together."

"I'll think on it," Dorian stated. "Just, Mahvir, don't listen to that elf's lies."

Mahvir's heart twisted.

"Promise me, you're not getting caught up in this."

The soft sound of movement came from Shianni's room.

"I must go, Dorian. It was good to speak with you." Mahvir slipped the crystal into his bag before the magister could reply. He used the wall and the cane to pull himself to his feet.

There was little hope in Dorian ever seeing who Mahvir really was in a good light. Yet, there was a part of him which hoped.

A small laugh fled his lips. It was like Falon'Din all over again. The bitter hope of his brother accepting they were at once brother's and cousins. The feeling perhaps they could continue on as they had for countless centuries.

With Dorian…

Mahvir closed his eyes.

It had felt almost as if Mahvir had his twin back.

Dorian wasn't Falon'Din. He was stronger than Falon'Din in so many ways. There were parts of his personality, aspects of him which made Mahvir see Dorian as more than just a friend, but a brother. A younger brother, but a brother nonetheless.

Mahvir shook the thought from his mind.

"Shartan?" Shianni appeared in the door. "The others are gathering."

"My thanks, _Hahren_ Shianni." Mahvir bowed his head to her. "Lead the way."

She nodded and led the way out of her home.

Mist whispered over the ground. The fine water droplets glittered in the first rays of the rising sun. Soon the mist would burn off from the light as the sun continued to rise. Now it would help provide them with a little cover.

The few remaining in the alienage were gathered before the home. They glanced around. Whispers filled the air in a buzz rippled with unease.

Today was the final day.

Mahvir took a deep, strained breath.

"Is everyone here?" Shianni called.

Mahvir scanned the small group. His sight allowed him to know everyone was gathered. His heart ached. He was asking so much of them and all of them were willing to follow him through this just because of who he had once been.

"Master," Atisha's breath was warm on his ear.

Mahvir stepped forward. "We need to leave now," he informed them. "The longer we delay the more guards who will be out throughout the city."

Shianni nodded.

Mahvir fell in beside her and Atisha.

"Will we encounter trouble?" Atisha's voice was low so only Mahvir could hear her.

Mahvir bowed his head. "Just over the bridge," his reply was just as soft to avoid notice from Shianni. "Lead the others towards the clan when I give the word."

"Master." Her eyes glittered under her hood. "Please, don't over do it."

"You need never worry about me, Atisha."

Her lips twitched into a frown.

Mist swirled over the bridge. The movement the only one in the early morning. Not even the sound distant birds stirred the air. A softer whisper echoed through time to Mahvir. The clanking of armored boots against hardened dirt and stone. The loud tap of the armored plate with each marching step a soldier took. They were far from alone.

"Cross with haste!" Mahvir called to those around him.

Shianni frowned and nodded. They picked up the pace.

The others passed Mahvir.

"Go with them, Atisha."

She nodded, gaze lingering on him before she raced to catch up.

His eyes burned. Time stilled through out the city, wrapping around the humans as they work for the day and the oncoming guards.

Mahvir remained where he was. He focused on his people, drawing them from the normal time flow into the stilled one. Each breath strained into his lung before escaping him as a rasp. Sweat trickled down his face.

Just a little longer.

His gaze locked on the far side of the bridge. The group raced to the far end of the bridge before vanishing from normal sight.

None noticed he had stopped or turned back.

Just a little longer.

Air shuddered through him. Mahvir squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to keep track of the group.

The group moved through a market devoid of people and towards the exit from Denerim.

A little longer.

His hand shook over his chest. Crawls gripped his lungs.

The gate was already open. The group raced out into the fields which lay beyond.

Time crashed back down upon the world.

A cool breeze washed over his face, pulling his hair into his sweat coated face.

He gasped. The mist filled air pulled at his strained lungs. His hands shook and legs felt as though they were made of water.

The others had made it to the first sentinel. Atisha spoke with the sentinel. It was Iras. He nodded and gestured for the group to continue with him. He took Atisha's place beside Shianni in the lead.

Atisha turned and started to race back across the field towards the city.

The clang of armor against stone echoed around him.

"You there, elf!"

Mahvir opened his eyes a slit. He took a strained breath. "Good morning," Mahvir greeted the guard, his tone soft as it rasped through the air.

The guard stepped forward. "Move aside."

Mahvir straightened, both his hands placed on his cane to help stop the shaking. "I am far from blocking the road. He smiled.

The guard growled. "Where are the rest of you bloody knife ears." His gaze flashed under his helm. There were several more gathered around the guard.

Mahvir kept his gaze locked on the guard. "I imagine they're getting ready for the day, good sir." He smiled. "It is only just yet dawn. A few no doubt have headed for the families they serve."

The guard huffed. "That is far from what we've been informed of, knife ear."

Mahvir tilted his head to one side.

"We've gotten reports of fewer and fewer elves returning here each night." A sneer curled his lips. "And it all started when three strange elves entered the alienage three days ago."

"Did it?" Mahvir bowed his head, hand over his heart. "I fear I know naught about these three strange elves. My apologies, good sir, but you may want to try the _hahren_. She would be able to direct you."

The guard snarled.

A moment long. He just needed a moment to get enough strength back.

"A likely story!" snapped one of the other guards. She stepped forward. "His majesty has treated your kind well since he took the throne. And here all of you are escaping. To what? Join the Dalish? Make an army of your own to take our nation?"

"My you have an active imagination." Mahvir looked at her.

She huffed.

The head guard moved towards Mahvir.

Time slowed.

Mahvir stepped away from the guard.

His lungs tightened.

Time returned to normal.

The guard blinked.

It hadn't been enough time.

Mahvir staggered back.

"What the?" The guard stared at where Mahvir had been a heartbeat before. "You little," he growled, eyes flashing.

"My apologies," Mahvir rasped. He managed a slight bow. "It is far from my intention to stand in your way. You're more than welcome to continue across the bridge." Mahvir stepped aside. "I am rather late myself for the lord I serve."

The guard's eyes narrowed.

"Sir, our priority is to see what's happening in the alienage," the woman intervened. She glared at Mahvir. "We can detain him if you wish. Or—"

 _Clang_!

The guard fell to reveal Atisha standing behind her. She raced forward.

The head guard turned.

Too slow.

The fell beside the others with another loud _clang_.

"Master, we must be off. It won't be long before they realize what's happened."

Mahvir nodded. "I fear I can't move fast."

Atisha blinked. Her gaze swept down his form.

A guard groaned.

"You have permission," Mahvir told her as she opened her mouth.

She nodded. " _Ma serannas_." Atisha lifted Mahvir into her arms.

She leapt over the guards and raced across the bridge.

The soft sound of clicking armor could be heard from where the guards lay.

Beyond the market had started to fill with early risers.

"Watch it!" snapped one of the men as Atisha bolted passed.

The sentinel ignored him. They moved out of the city and into the fields beyond.

"Set me down on the rise. It will take time for the guards to realize we've gone." And he had no desire to be carried into the camp.

"All right."

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 **(Author's Notes:** Originally I was going to have Mahvy injured in the escape. But, one, he can control time. Two, why? And three, no one would ever let him on the field again. **)**


End file.
